


Fallout

by nan00k



Series: Fallout [1]
Category: Transformers, Transformers (2007), Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 270,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan00k/pseuds/nan00k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifty years after Mission City, Earth has lost hope. Galvatron's drones scour the land. Eleven humans, Autobots, and Decepticons struggle to survive. AU 2007verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Fallout**  
>  " **Introductions: Part 1"**  
>  By Nan00k
> 
> Some of this will be happy fluff and others will be depressing as hell. You've been warned. The following six chapters will be the introductory story, telling of how the eleven survivors met. **Not all of the chapters after this will be in chronological order, but you will be told in the Author's Notes when what is happening so PLEASE READ EACH CHAPTER'S AUTHOR'S NOTE**. Thanks.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : _Transformers_ © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. **  
> Warnings** : character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_Southern United States  
2033 AD_

Well, Earth was fucked.

He wasn't a pessimist by nature, but as the sun set on yet another lonely day, Jazz could not help dwell on that sentiment. He had only the shortest amount of time to grow attached to the planet before they had fallen, but it took such a short amount of time to find reasons to want to stay.

The humans had been one reason. They had been a good reason; their culture had inspired him to get up and move. He hadn't felt that sort of frivolity and just plain living since before he joined the Autobots hundreds of thousands of years previous. Humans had made him relive, for even such a short amount of time, the moments before this slagging war even began.

But that was before they made their first mistakes on Earth. That was before Megatron's supporters found the Laurentian Abyss. That was all before a mech called the Fallen arrived, and suddenly, things weren't simple anymore.

Prime was dead. The initial team they had come with was long gone. He had stuck around long enough to watch Mikaela Banes die along with William Lennox and then Jazz found himself running.

He had seen battle after battle for vorns upon vorns, but nearly thirty years on Earth had taught Jazz that there was always something unexpected in warfare. None of them had expected Megatron to be resurrected, not like that. No one knew how it was possible, but the Decepticon Lord had returned with a vengeance. It wasn't just Megatron though; Jazz recalled his initial suspicions of the warlord, who seemed stranger and more out of control than he had before.

He called himself Galvatron. And that's when the problems really began.

When the Autobots fell, so did the United States and its allies' armies. America had been targeted initially and so much was lost. People fled as quickly as they could, but Jazz never got an accurate number on refugees. Galvatron, aided by a mech they only knew was named the Fallen, moved out across the planet in his genocide. He turned survivors into slaves and obliterated the unwilling.

Any Autobots who had answered Prime's last message fell harshly to Galvatron's defenses. If there were any survivors of the Autobot units, Jazz didn't know. When the United States resistance fell, he had to run for his own safety. He had expected to be fighting Decepticons, as he always had. For the briefest of times, Jazz felt a darkness in his spark as he realized, perhaps, he had chosen the losing side.

But as he dodged fire from fast moving Decepticons, Jazz began to notice something more unsettling than the sheer numbers of enemies.

None of his attackers bore the Decepticon sigil. When he had finally managed to take out one, he realized it had no sigil at all. It was a drone.

He began to wonder after that if he was actually running away from Galvatron, or his legacy. He never saw another Decepticon after that. They, along with the Autobots and humans, seemed to disappear from the face of the earth, either into hiding or having met an untimely death at the hands of the drones.

Life had become a countdown. From ruined city to ruined city, Jazz saw only the barest signs of the living. He had no purpose, with no one to protect. He could only run from the swarms of drones that scoured the land in search of opposition or refugees to slaughter.

When the axe had first fallen, Jazz had mused of how they would make their comeback. He had expected to run into the Opposition, a rebel group, a group of survivors who would overthrow Galvatron and reclaim Earth.

Thirty years later, Jazz had stopped looking for rebels in the forests now overtaking the ghost-town-turned-cities he drove through aimlessly. He only looked for potential energy sources—and the potential enemy.

Which is why he was unpleasantly surprised when he missed seeing the Decepticon jet flying overhead and then promptly land in the center of the road he was cruising down.

Transforming faster than his abused systems probably would have allowed in normal circumstances, Jazz had his weapons trained on the clearly-Decepticon aircraft before him. The Decepticon had transformed in mid-descent and had his back to the smaller Autobot saboteur.

Ignoring Jazz completely, the Decepticon set to work picking up stray, abandoned cars, glancing them over, before chucking them haphazardly over his shoulder. They hit the decaying road and rolled off into the sidewalks of the random city Jazz had chosen to travel through. The Decepticon had not even turned around at the sound of cannons charging.

Jazz watched the sight in front of him very carefully and his optics followed every move the massive Decepticon made. The flier was in bad shape, perhaps worse off than Jazz himself was, with a tear in one wing, and armor hanging off in some places like bark off a tree.

"Decepticon," Jazz began, tensing even more when the Decepticon tensed up, "do not move."

Head turning, Jazz saw the red-colored optics of the jet meet his own blue ones. For a moment, Jazz expected a fight—because there was always another fight. He had not run into a single life form in the last five years that he had not had to fight and kill.

But the Decepticon froze, dropping the burnt car he was holding. It landed with a harsh crunch and clang, rolling off into the other piled-up cars. They stood still, watching each other.

"Autobot," the Decepticon said, as if questioning what he was seeing. He spoke in English, following in Jazz's example.

"Yup, we're still here," Jazz said, grinning despite feeling a sudden urge to run and hide. "Man, and here I was thinkin' y'all were handlin' this invasion behind the scenes. Haven't seen one of your ugly mugs in at least twenty years. Time sure flies, don't it?"

The Decepticon said nothing, but his optics narrowed. Slowly, he turned around to face Jazz. He _was_ huge; Jazz had a feeling this was one of the Seekers, Megatron's flying task force. Briefly he wondered if ol' Starscream was still flying around. Jazz would take his friendly face over the blank ones of the drones any day.

"So…who are ya?" Jazz asked, continuing to grin.

The Decepticon just stared, arms at his sides.

"My name's Jazz," he offered politely.

"Thundercracker," the Decepticon said, so abruptly, Jazz almost didn't think he had actually heard it.

Optics shuttering, Jazz pondered over the decidedly un-Decepticon behavior he was observing.

"So, where have you 'Cons been? I've been gettin' awful lonely with just those drones dear ol' Galvy has been sendin' out," Jazz said, his voice mockingly casual. He kept his weapons pinned directly on Thundercracker's sparkchamber. "You guys even still stationed here?"

Thundercracker didn't say anything at first. He looked down at Jazz's weapons and then back up at the smaller mech's faceplate. Something changed in the Decepticon's posture; he suddenly seemed less tense.

"There are no Decepticons," Thundercracker said pointedly, interrupting Jazz's next line of questioning.

A silence fell over the street. Jazz watched the Decepticon carefully, his words sinking in further into his processor.

"I noticed," Jazz replied coolly, trying to recover his composure; he didn't want to give any 'Con the satisfaction of riling him up. "All you guys have been doin' is throwin' around those drones, an'—"

"No." The sudden, deep comment made Jazz physically pause. Thundercracker stared down at the Autobot with a controlled grim expression. "There are no…longer Decepticons. Only Galvatron."

… _What?_

"…Care to elaborate?" Jazz asked, finally able to get his voice back. He knew this was probably just a trick or some sort of confusion technique.

But for some odd reason, his spark was growing colder in apprehension.

Thundercracker's expression seemed to grow darker as he prepared an answer. "He killed off his commanders," he began, his voice chilled. "I was in the second landing party, but he kept killing off his own mechs."

Jazz hesitated internally, but kept his bravado. "What, they not cool with some old fashioned genocide?" he asked, sneering.

His attempt at riling the Decepticon up—and giving himself an excuse to blow a hole through his chest—failed. "At first, it was only Starscream and his supports. The fools." Thundercracker paused and then turned his head, scowling. "But…Galvatron did not stop there. He started to kill everyone. I escaped, barely." His voice grew quieter, as did his expression. "…There were few survivors. I've been stuck here ever since."

That was not what he had expected to hear, at least the last part. "…You can fly," he countered, frowning minutely, suspicious. "You can get off the planet."

He was expecting for the Decepticon to get caught up in his own lies or at least laugh at him. He was not expecting the somewhat uneasy, almost pitying expression that played in Thundercracker's optics. "…How long have you _been_ here, Autobot?" he asked in a gravely voice.

What a question. Jazz stumbled mentally, not expecting that sort of inquiry. Either Thundercracker was exceptionally good at lying, or…

Gathering his wits, Jazz tilted his head. "Since Megatron first died. Mission City."

He could not fully hide his silent question lurking in those words: _"Why?"_

Thundercracker suddenly scowled. "The land is plagued by the drones, but you cannot escape Earth by sky," he said ominously.

Jazz frowned. "…Why?"

"I don't know what or who…" Thundercracker began, pausing to look uncomfortable, "but those who try, die. There's some sort of remote sentry or…something up there."

 _Something_. The way the 'Con said that made Jazz shiver, just slightly. "He's…trapped everyone down here?" Why? What was the purpose in that?

"I don't know or care what Galvatron is doing," Thundercracker replied darkly. "I don't even know if he's still functioning."

Ooh, somebody sounded bitter. Jazz couldn't help but share the sentiment. "Someone is controlling th' drones," he said, shifting on his feet.

Sneering, Thundercracker did not look that impressed. "As long as I can outrun them, I don't care who their master is."

There was something unnerving about how the Decepticon was behaving. Perhaps Jazz was just so used to fighting, it seemed odd to hold a conversation with one.

… _Primus_. Jazz tried not to laugh. He hadn't actually held a conversation with someone— _anyone_ —in nearly five years.

Man. That was depressing.

"What were you lookin' for?" he asked, without thinking. He glanced down at the various cars the Decepticon had been throwing around.

Thundercracker followed his stare and gazed down at the mess he just made of the already disorderly street. "Energon. Energy."

Jazz smirked. "Ha. Aren't we all." Finding energon on Earth was like finding air on the moon. He had managed to get by this long by using gasoline. It was crude and undoubtedly unhealthy, but it was all he could find.

"There are more Autobots?" Thundercracker asked, looking up, mild surprise coloring his faceplate.

Jazz didn't hesitate that time. "Yeah." Somewhere. Hopefully.

Taking a moment to size the Autobot before him up, Thundercracker did not look convinced. "…They are not here," he said, not as a question.

Apprehensive, Jazz grinned, playing it casual again. "I like travelin' solo, what can I say?"

Thundercracker glared. "You are a terrible liar, Autobot."

"I guess I am when up against a _Decepti_ con, eh?" Jazz replied shortly. He gave him a tight grin, weapons still poised. "As much as I've enjoyed meetin' new friends, we should probably be gettin' down t' business. Like what I'm gonna be doin' next."

Whatever he was expecting—and he honestly didn't know what—didn't happen. Thundercracker stood there, glaring steadfast, but didn't move. He was waiting to see what Jazz was going to do. With his weapons raised, Jazz couldn't believe the Decepticon thought he would do anything but shoot him.

But Jazz knew it was pointless. The 'Con was huge and had flight over him. He'd lose in a fight.

That was it, he decided, as he powered down his weapons protocols. The 'Con was too big of an opponent; that's why he wouldn't fire.

"I need t' save these for th' drones," he said, forcing another grin. Inwardly, he was trying to use the excuse to convince himself.

Thundercracker's intense stare didn't waver. "Indeed."

Jazz lowered his cannons. They stood there for a long moment, optic on optic, and Jazz wondered briefly if he had made a mistake.

But Thundercracker eventually broke the stare down and turned away. He transformed and flew in the air; not getting very high, Jazz mused. Perhaps he was afraid of the apparent sentinel of the sky. Or was just trying to avoid the drones.

Not that it mattered, he thought to himself, transforming. He believed that would be the last time they met.

They ran into each other two weeks later. Jazz would later joke that it was destined that they be united; coincidence was never an option in a world like this.

He had been traveling as fast as he could down the abandoned highways that looped outside another abandoned city. Parts of the road were gone, but it was quickest way out of the Southern swamps. There was no way Jazz could afford to get stuck in one of those organic mazes.

But roads were always the more dangerous route to take. The drones flew like swarms of insects; they looked like ordinary birds on the horizon. But there was a tell-tale buzz in the air. Jazz knew to screech to a halt and duck behind a pile of burnt and crushed human vehicles; within just a minute's time, they arrived.

Screeching and buzzing, they flew overhead and Jazz tried to be absolutely still among the twisted metal. They weren't sentient but they were skilled hunters, those drones. And there were many this time, at least ten. He wouldn't be able to get away easy if they spotted him.

He was extraordinarily lucky that day, he thought; the drones passed him completely and seemed focused on something else. It was then Jazz saw they were targeting something in the sky—a jet.

They collided with their prey fast—faster than Jazz thought was even natural. They clawed and slashed into the unprepared Decepticon, sending the pack as well as the mech spiraling downwards. Transforming in mid-air, the Decepticon jet ripped a drone off himself, tearing it down the middle. He flung it away from himself, but the others clung tight. They gracelessly fell to earth, the jet only picking himself up in the air soon enough to avoid a deadly crash. He was skidding into another line of cars, only a hundred yards from where Jazz was crouching.

The drones continued the assault. If anything, they were efficient and dedicated. Once they had something in their sights, they didn't stop until the thing was dead or destroyed. Jazz shivered involuntarily as the mindless robots waged their one-sided war on their victim.

He didn't even realize he was stepping out from behind his cover, cannon raised, until one of the drones whipped around, its single red eye piercing right through his spark. A moment of hesitation passed in just a nano-click—

And the fight was on.

He nailed two of the drones in the faceplates right off the bat. He had never gotten such clean hits on the creatures before, but the victory was short-lived. Screeching not with rage, but pre-programmed defensive protocols, half of the remaining drones rose—and attacked. Birds of prey, they took to the air and began to fire on him with their own arsenal. Jazz dodged a laser and fired back with magnetic pulses, sending one smacking into two others, disrupting their flight pattern.

Briefly, Jazz entertained the idea of using the magnets to throw a car into the swarm, but someone took his idea, quite literally, when a four-door sedan abruptly flew into his line of sight and took down two of his attackers. Whirling around, Jazz saw Thundercracker standing, bleeding, wing bent, but launching his own assault on their attackers. He used another vehicle as a melee weapon, beating down another drone that got too close. With a feral snarl, the jet lashed out and grabbed a drone by the neck, ripping into it until it sparked and then fell limp.

Jazz had to hand it to the Decepticons; they knew how to pick the tough motherfuckers.

He had only fought the drones alone or with the army; most of the Autobots were scattered or just arriving when the drones first showed up. He never thought he'd be fighting against them with someone else backing him up.

It was strangely nostalgic. Except for the part where it was him and a Decepticon doing the whole ally-thing. That wasn't so nostalgic.

A drone flew at him and Jazz fired twice, missing once. The second blast hit the drone off course. Battle programming left no room for hesitation and Jazz found himself tearing into the drone, claws hooking on the internal wiring the squid-like robot held deep inside. He tore the wires as he flung the creature away into the car pile. He felt parts of his armor go with it, the tentacles trailing from the body catching onto his body with their serrated edges. The body landed with a satisfying crunch and breaking glass.

Hydraulics hissing in protest, Jazz turned, surveying the street for remaining threats. Thundercracker threw the last drone off himself; it slammed into the pavement, and before it could get up into the air, he finished it with a blast from his own cannons. A startling silence fell over the street. Jazz turned around once more, overheating, but alive.

Huh. He wasn't expecting that.

Thundercracker hissed lowly, removing one of the drone's limbs from his chestplates. The serrated edges would hook into their bodies to ensure the rest of the body could attack the victim without being removed. The Decepticon had succeeded in deflecting most of the attacks, but he was looking much shabbier than he had two weeks previous.

"Wheeew," Jazz exclaimed, shakily walking forward. He grinned openly at the 'Con, who was still removing limbs. "Nice moves there, TC."

Thundercracker paused and looked up at the nickname, scowling. He didn't say anything and continued to try to fix himself up. Jazz winced in sympathy as one tentacle ripped off part of his armor as he tore it off. With no medics, they had to use scraps they found and hope their self-repairs would keep up. Thirty years was a long time without a proper medical check up. To think, he used to give Ratchet a hassle whenever those came around.

Jazz dared to walk over, stopping just a few yards away from the Decepticon jet, who turned to face him. Both stood, sizing each other up. Jazz was dwarfed by the flier, and even if they had just worked together to defeat a common enemy, he could not help feel incredibly nervous.

But, surprising him for a third time in just a few weeks time, Thundercracker did not attack. He moved away and then, with a shuddering slam, collapsed onto the highway. He leaned against a stack of cars and began to assess the damages he just received.

Jazz watched and was unsure of what to do. He glanced down at his body and saw he hadn't received any real damages. He looked back up and saw Thundercracker was watching him with an intense stare.

They stood there in silence until Jazz couldn't take it anymore.

"Thanks. Fer savin' my aft back there," Jazz said, meaning it and feeling confused over why he did. "Never was able to fend off more than two of those suckers at a time."

"You saved me first, Autobot," Thundercracker replied. His voice was strong and deep.

Jazz hesitated. "I…"

Then, he laughed. Thundercracker tilted his head, listening. Jazz gripped his helm, feeling as though the world were slipping out from under him.

"Ah, man, this is all messed up. All of this…" Jazz laughed again. He grinned down at the Decepticon, trying to force his hysteria away like he always did. "Me savin' a 'Con. You savin' a 'Bot. What th' frag is up with that?"

Thundercracker looked away, weary. "I was never a real Decepticon. I only joined because of Skywarp and Starscream," he said, optics turning off. "With them gone…I don't believe you could call me that."

Everyone lost somebody. Jazz had never expected to lose everyone, though. He had no idea if Prowl were still alive. He had too many friends offline in his hands—it was only a few decades ago he had held a dying Mikaela in his claws, watching, drip by drip, a life he once cherished end.

He was alone in the center of a dying planet, with no way off and no way to go back to the way things were before.

A hysterical laughter begged escape, but Jazz had enough restraint to move backwards and fall to the ground in a similar manner the jet had just done. Thundercracker watched him with mild interest as the Autobot sat back and looked back over at him.

"Th' name's Jazz. Not Autobot," he said, his optics meeting Thundercracker's with brutal honesty. "I was once. But th' name's Jazz."

Thundercracker stared and then nodded slowly.

Because only a mech could save a mech—because an Autobot would never save a Decepticon.

"Keepin' it sane," Jazz muttered, a weary feeling creeping up into his hydraulics and limbs. He ignored the curious look Thundercracker sent him.

They sat in a comfortable silence. Far away, he heard a rare sound; a bird crying. Jazz glanced over at Thundercracker, a stray and dangerous thought crossing his processor.

"Two is a far better number than one," he said conversationally.

Thundercracker started and gave Jazz a deep frown. Jazz grinned back, both challenging and welcoming.

"…So it is," Thundercracker replied slowly. He didn't look suspicious as much as unsure of what he was hearing.

Stretching, Jazz looked up at the sky. It was tinted the same brown it generally was as of late. Too many fires.

Another thought came to him abruptly.

"Say…what do you think about France?"

Thundercracker paused and gave the smaller mech a strange look. "…What is that?" he asked.

So, the 'Con hadn't gotten all of the downloads on Earth, before the Internet collapsed, then. "A country, over th' ocean," Jazz explained cheerfully. "I hear it has th' prettiest scenery."

His description only increased Thundercracker's frown. "Galvatron has probably destroyed it," he warned darkly.

Jazz didn't doubt him for a second. But he couldn't help but try for this. It was all they had. "Your realism is gonna clash terribly with my optimism, TC. I bet we could find some green there." He personally hadn't seen green grass in almost a decade.

Falling silent again, the two sat there. Thundercracker was watching Jazz carefully and Jazz stared back openly. Jazz didn't know what he was waiting to hear, if anything. He didn't know why he was bothering to ask, or why it mattered.

Thundercracker's frown remained in place, but the dark gloom behind it lightened just slightly as the huge flier shifted back further into the cars. "…Why not?"

Because they had no other options. Because it was just the two of them. Because this land, at least for Jazz, held way too many memories he wished he could just purge from his systems.

"Great!" Jazz beamed. He paused, considering another thought that popped up in his processor. "…Huh. Can you fly more than just yourself in the air, buddy? 'Cause I wasn't really made t' swim."

The glare he received made Jazz laugh. To his own amusement, it was almost a real one.

So, they went to France.

**00000**

_Western Germany  
2033 AD_

When he had first landed on the planet, there had still been hope. Even without Optimus Prime, they had been sure they could secure victory over the Decepticons and the newly risen Galvatron.

But they had not been expecting the arrival of Galvatron's sudden reinforcements, the drones. There were rumors of another mech involved, who had brought the drones with him to give to Galvatron, but the information was never followed up. Wheeljack knew much about how a drone worked, but was caught completely by surprise by these drones. They moved quicker and functioned better than anything he had ever witnessed before. They did not fail in the missions they were sent on. And when their mission turned out to be a genocide, Wheeljack's theories were not proved wrong.

He and Perceptor had been assigned to finding a way to destroy the drones. They were like locusts; they never seemed to diminish and another would always arrive to replace one they had managed to bring down. Wheeljack knew that, if they had had just a little more time, he and his teammates would have found an answer.

But there was never enough time. Not any more.

Perceptor was dead. Ultra Magnus had tried to lead their unit in a defense of several human bases along the European coasts, but no one survived. Wheeljack escaped with only a handful of soldiers and civilians. They were all gone now.

What was worse than losing his companions, Wheeljack mused, was the fact he never got any answers. The drones shouldn't have been able to function so well, nor swarm in such large numbers. They were brought down by robots, not their Decepticon foes. Adding to the mystery were the Decepticons themselves. He never saw another one after Lisboa fell. They, much like the human race and the few remaining Autobot soldiers, disappeared.

Thirty-some years later, Wheeljack was left with only questions. Who made the drones? Why give them to Galvatron? Where _was_ Galvatron and his army? Earth was abandoned; he had not seen one digging operation in progress or any sort of energy mining at all. And who was this Fallen? A Decepticon? Where were the Decepticons now?

Driving aimlessly across the abandoned European roads and fields, Wheeljack had no way of answering any of his lingering doubts and concerns. Human settlements had either gone underground or high in the mountains. He had lost contact with any Autobots and doubted that there were many left alive on the planet's surface. He was only alive because he avoided locations he knew the Drones were most active in. He never stayed in one location for long and did his best to drive around cities. He rarely met any survivors that way, but there was little he could do. He was utterly alone, condemned to die on an alien world.

So, when he was driving down a beaten dirt road in Western Germany, he did not immediately follow the dark cloud of smoke erupting over the side of the forest the road was approaching. He debated turning around or trying to find another route through the woods, but something prompted him to continue forward. The smoke was not overwhelming; it was an old fire. If a settlement had been attacked, the Drones had most likely moved on by that point.

Approaching the source of the smoke, Wheeljack realized the Drones must have left several days ago. The fires were tame and only smoldering ashes really remained of what used to be a human caravan, it seemed. He had no doubts about the outcome; an unarmed human caravan had little chance against a swarm of Drones.

He still made a cursory glance over the wreckage. There were two military vehicles overturned, smoking. They had been the source of the flames. Wheeljack felt his spark twist at the sight of the human remains; the Drones were efficient but never clean.

There was little left to do other than send a prayer to Primus for these lost lives and then move on. He had started his engines to press on down the path, avoiding the cars—

When he heard it.

A faint, almost indiscernible noise in the middle of the abandoned road and drying bloodbath, rose up above the sound of his own motors. For a moment, Wheeljack wanted to flee, dreading an encounter with a lingering Drone swarm.

But inexplicably, he shut his engine down to listen. Yes, there was a sound. A human sound.

An infant crying.

Wheeljack transformed in the middle of the road. He had not been in his bipedal mode for several days, considering he stopped for little other than nourishment. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the origin of the crying. His sensors indicated a small heat signature emanating from a gully on the other side of the road. Sidestepping the carnage, Wheeljack made his way over, half-fearing, half-excited, for what he might find.

The child was not a newborn; she was perhaps nearly a year or two of age. Her biological signs indicated she was a female. Wrapped in the limp arms of her mother, the child seemed unharmed, but potentially under nourished and emotionally distraught.

Wheeljack winced behind his blast mask at the sight of the mother; eyes left open in a haunting mimicry of life, her last moments probably spent dragging her dying body to the ditch, her child clutched to her chest, in hopes of saving just that one life.

Without thinking, Wheeljack crouched. His shadow fell over the two forms and the child noticed. Sniffling, the youngling looked up and stared directly into his face. Wheeljack expected a negative reaction, but the child obviously knew little of his species. She didn't know the horrors the Decepticons had wrought on her home world, or the potential danger he himself could have posed to her.

Instead, she just stared at him quietly, taking in his massive form without pause or doubt.

Wheeljack didn't know what to do. He had never dealt with a human sparkling before; they were so fragile, even more so than the adults. But he couldn't leave the child to die. He had seen too many of her kind perish because of his own race's thoughtless greed. She deserved better than that.

Reaching down, Wheeljack contemplated how to move the child with the least amount of trauma. The child stared at his mechanical hand with unabashed awe, clearly never having seen a mech before, it seemed. Cupping his one hand, he gently ushered the child with the other. She slid onto his open palm and stared up at him with huge organic optics, now just slightly alarmed.

Wheeljack sat back, the tiny creature still in his hands. The child stared back, fear diminishing gradually. A silence fell over the road.

"Hello, little one," he finally said, his blast mask hiding his smile.

His sensory paneled earfins flashed instead, relaying his emotions. He doubted the child could decipher what each setting of flashing meant, considering her age and species—

Suddenly, a strange sound filtered by his audials. Wheeljack peered closer at the tiny organic in his palms. It was making a strangely familiar face, one that seemed to stretch further than a mech's could. But from the few files he had gathered on the native species of earth, he concluded the expression was a smile.

The sound…was laughter. The child giggled. Wheeljack felt something in his spark twist and he couldn't help but chuckle back. That only set the child off more and soon, both were laughing, Wheeljack on a much quieter level. The child clapped her hands and giggled uncontrollably at the bright lights emanating from Wheeljack's helm.

"I don't suppose you know your name. Perhaps you do. I wish I knew it to be able to call you by what your creators had intended," Wheeljack mused, pushing air through his vents, tired. The breeze made the girl laugh loudly, falling into giggles once again.

He remembered the few humans he had had the opportunity to befriend before they lost the fight. Several human scientists had been thrown together with him and Perceptor, in hopes of increasing their odds at discovering a suitable defense against their enemies. There had been no time to make friendships, but Wheeljack was always a friendly mech. He had been particularly close with a Dr. Danielle Friederich; he wondered if she had met her end as quietly as he hoped she had. She had not deserved the painful demise many of their colleagues had suffered.

"If you don't mind, little one, I will give you a name to use instead," Wheeljack said, cradling the youngling close to his chest plates. The child gazed up, mesmerized by his glowing optics. The sight of her innocent expression warmed his hardened spark even more. "…Danielle."

He let the child reach up and grab at his free hand. Her warm fingers latched onto his cold exodermal plating, catching in the seams between joints. Danielle smiled, her optics full of trust and joy.

Blast mask retracting for the first time in years, Wheeljack could not help but smile back.

**00000**

_Lorraine, France  
2034 AD_

Lorraine was in better shape than Normandy had been, but Normandy would always be their home. Allete Rancourt had hoped her children's children could have grown up and played in the same yards she and her siblings had once played in many decades earlier, but life, as it turned out, had other plans for them. They were traveling through Southern Lorraine, and Allete had to admit, it had more green left there than the rocky North had.

Her husband, Armand, did his best to provide for their family, which now consisted of himself, Allete, and tiny Barnaby, who had just turned two that year. He had been the one to suggest they move South, hopefully to run into more settlements. The alien monsters had been moving too close for comfort in the ones situated along the coast.

Time had worn hard on both the elderly couple, but nothing could stop Armand from plucking the teetering toddler off the ground and swinging him up in the air just to hear a laugh on a usually gray and depressing day.

" _Bonjour, mon petit_ ," Armand exclaimed, making Barnaby shriek with laughter as they spun.

"Speak English, he'll never learn," Allete insisted, placing the last of their gear into her bag. Armand had already gotten his things together and was ready for their hike through the mountains. "His mother would 'ave insisted."

"Ahh, I know, I know," Armand replied, placing the squirming toddler on the ground. Barnaby took off down the path at a moderate pace, allowing his grandparents to walk behind him slower.

Allete had never dreamt they would be where they were. She had been just a young woman herself when the aliens first arrived. Her son Laurent had only known the war, and soon, the struggle to survive. He never got to play in the fields surrounding the family's main house. All he and his eventual wife—and their son Barnaby—ever knew was danger and fear. It broke Allete's heart whenever she looked at her grandson, who knew more of running than he did of things a child should be doing.

They were headed for what they had heard was another large settlement. This one had soldiers, they learned from the last settlement they had rested at. Soldiers attracted more violence, but violence was everywhere, Armand reasoned. They were generally better stocked, however, so they might be able to spare some supplies. It was less risky than trying to move unseen through any cities they came across. The small towns they passed through were often already ransacked or in too bad of ruin to give them much.

" _Grand-mère_!" Allete stopped when she heard the tiny voice shout through the quiet of the mountain trail. Barnaby rushed up to her, holding out something in his dirt-covered palm. " _Je trouvé un roche—_!"

"You mean, 'I found', Barnaby," his grandmother corrected, smiling kindly. "Zhat's English. Say it again, in English."

"I found a…" he trailed off, instead proudly holding up a small peddle in compensation for the missing word. The stone was a pretty purple color.

Allete withheld a sigh; the child was quick with languages, but had trouble switching them. She had promised the dying Emily Rancourt that she would teach her son her own mother tongue. English was one of the more popular languages in settlements, Allete had to reason. To survive, Barnaby would have to know it fluently.

Barnaby held the small rock up to the sky, totally in awe of the object's pointless but alluring nature. Allete smiled sadly, seeing her own son shining in the boy's innocent face. So much was lost, but they had not lost everything. She would not see her family again until she too left this world, and they had lost everything she had called home…but all it took were a few minutes with her grandson to make her realize that there were still pleasures to be found in this cold world they had to endure.

"It's beautiful, Barnaby," she said, meaning every word.

The brilliant glow the boy shone lit their drab path and, for just a moment, Allete forgot the world and all its dangers. All that mattered was her family—the three of them and the quiet forest path they were walking on.

The day was just so much more bearable after that.

_Introductions: Part One_ end. _  
Part Two_ to follow.


	2. Introductions: Part 2

_Europe  
2038 AD_

It was spring now, but the cooler air coming down from the mountains made the mornings brisk and unpleasantly chilly. Wheeljack's systems were adequate to keep all of his internal devices and wiring frost-free, but he was not the one he was concerned with.

Fidgeting, the tiny youngling standing before him tugged irritably at the strip of cloth wrapped around her neck. Practice made it easy for Wheeljack to nimbly tie the scarf around the tiny femme's neck, but he knew the moment he turned his back, Danielle would be untying the apparently uncomfortable article of clothing.

"It is too cold to not wear it," he said, beating her to the complaint the seven-year-something-old child would surely be saying in the next few joors. Humans could be awfully predictable when it came to complaints; other than that, and they were enigmas.

Danielle pouted fiercely. "It itches," she said, gripping the scarf. She didn't try to tug at it anymore, however.

"We can try to find you something more comfortable in the next city," Wheeljack replied, offering his hand to pick her up. Shaking her head stiffly, Wheeljack allowed her to walk ahead of him. He kept his sensors pinned to her form, in case she lost her footing.

The child had been severely undernourished and underdeveloped when he had first saved her. She had been at least two years of age, but had the mental facilities of half that. He had been concerned that there would be little he could do to administer the proper care she needed, but was pleasantly proved wrong as time went by. With the proper food and encouragement, Danielle was speaking by age five and seemed to recover the years she had lost as a newborn infant.

Even at age seven, however, she was still confined to a strict diet of a nutrient-rich food substitute he had created himself. The rare stops they made to abandoned towns or populated refugee camps were based on a need for diet supplements or clothing replacements. In the increasingly cold environment, multiple articles of clothing were needed, much to Danielle's dismay. She disliked the confinement of clothing, but respected Wheeljack's directions nevertheless. She was quite the conscientious child.

Wheeljack was amazed how quickly time had flown for the human child. He was used to living millennia, but the last five years seemed like forever and a blink of an eye all at the same time. He was amazed at how fast organics grew, and yet how slow it was. From her first steps to her first words to the moment he had had to explain to her why he and she were so radically different—Wheeljack was sure his chronometer had been damaged. It was as if after first picking up Danielle, time seemed to defy the laws that defined it.

Today, they were headed for a village his outdated maps told him would be nearby. Wheeljack detested going into recognizable civilization, for fear their enemies would locate them. He and Danielle had had incredible luck when it came to dodging attacks. They had only had a handful of close calls and Danielle knew what to do during one of them. Wheeljack knew that his decision to avoid camps and abandoned towns contributed to their luck.

But Danielle had needs he could not always grant. And he would never deny the child the chance to explore a culture that should have been hers, had this war never come to her planet. She had little interest in living with other humans—as he discovered early on—but Wheeljack knew he was obligated to let her know about her own people.

Danielle always gave him the opportunity to teach her about humanity, he mused, by asking questions. Oh, how she loved questions.

They were walking through an open clearing. It was a picturesque scene, to be sure, had most of the non-evergreens been properly green and not barren from the constant warfare years prior. Wheeljack was certain the chemical attacks the Decepticons released early on had targeted the vegetation in hopes of starving their opponents, but at least it had failed marginally. At least the drones hadn't picked up on their master's old plans; the old trees might be able to re-grow at some point.

"Where did the cities come from?" Danielle asked, her rubber boots squeaking loudly over the muddy terrain.

"Other humans, like you," Wheeljack answered, looking down at her. "They built them to live in. A permanent camp."

Danielle frowned thoughtfully. "…But why don't they live there now?" she concluded. "They could be nice. Playgrounds are nice."

Her question was vague but well founded. Wheeljack looked back toward the horizon, where a little European town awaited them. He hoped they had an easily accessible line of stores to get to. He would only send Danielle in if he could see where she was at all times.

"Yes, they were nice, but the people had to run away," he answered after a moment. He had wondered when this conversation would finally arise. The child was terribly curious.

"From the drones?" she asked. She had only begun to call them by their proper designations; she preferred to call them Sky Monsters. It was an apt designation, if not politically correct.

"Yes, Danielle," Wheeljack replied, his earfins pulsing lowly, "from the drones."

Danielle made a face, not understanding and feeling frustrated by it. "Why?"

Wheeljack had to proceed _very_ carefully. "The drones...were built by a mech—like me—who wanted to build his own camp here." He paused, recalling the conversation he had had with Danielle, teaching her the benefits of sharing. "He wanted all the land you see. He did not want to share. He was selfish."

"Wait, 'like you'?" repeated Danielle, now confused. She wouldn't be able to connect his face to another creature; he was the only transformer she had ever met.

Tilting his head, Wheeljack said, "He looks like me, but I'm not from his family. His family is called the Decepticons. Mine is called the Autobots." He hoped his wording was appropriate for a youngling to understand. Despite her rough beginnings, Danielle was very quick. Still, he didn't want to overwhelm her with information at such a young age. "The Autobots are fighters only to protect. The Decepticons wanted what others had and took it by force."

Danielle frowned. "That's not nice," she said.

"No, they are not nice, Danny. But the drones are worse." Wheeljack never thought he would be admitting to anyone, that the Decepticons were not the worst creatures out there to be feared. "The Decepticons are gone, or so it seems. The drones were built by my people, but they do not think or feel. They don't have a spark, nor a heart."

Danielle blinked. "…Oh."

"Yes," Wheeljack said, turning back to the horizon.

"You don't like Decepto…cons," Danielle said eventually, stumbling over the world. "You don't like them, do you, Wheeljack?"

Oh, how perceptive. Wheeljack's spark twisted at the child's behavior; he was always reminded of the friend he had lost not too long ago. "…I do not like them only for what they stand for. I was a scientist…a teacher, of sorts, back at my home world. I have never liked fighting, in any way, but the Autobots and Decepticons were at war," he said, grim. "War is a fierce fight between two or more parties. It gets people killed. People kill people. It is not a pleasant or good thing, not at all."

Danielle knew what death was. Wheeljack held few secrets from her, only numbing some of the world's harshest realities. She knew death as a great sleep. She knew her parents and family were sleeping, and some day, she'd join them too. She had no fear of such things.

But fighting, she feared. She had witnessed fighting, when she and Wheeljack were forced to flee from the drones. Fighting meant pain and she did not like pain. She could not understand how creatures willingly caused pain unto each other and it made Wheeljack's spark ache whenever he saw the child tormented by that realization.

"But why are you fighting?" Danielle asked, eyes widen with confusion and the inability to understand. She stumbled a little in her shoes, which were unfortunately not quite the right size for her petite form, but kept up with a steady pace next to her giant caretaker.

Wheeljack had been hoping to avoid revealing too much about Earth's recent history until Danielle was a little older. War was such a complicated thing. But what had happened was eternally part of humanity's history. Danielle, as well as any other human who was still clinging to life, deserved to know the truth.

"We were trying to secure an object known as the All Spark. It was a powerful tool." Wheeljack's optics dimmed, recalling his own species' history. The loss of the Cube had been an irreparable strike at their survival. "It could have rebuilt our world."

Danielle tilted her head, miming his earlier behavior, much to his amusement. He was generally careful about giving her non-human quirks to follow; he had adopted many human behaviors for her benefit. "What happened to your world?" she asked, concerned.

"It was destroyed by our fighting." Images of a fallen Praxus—its genocide—the fall of the Senate—the rise of Kaon and its new army of eventual Decepticons—flooded his processors. "The All Spark was sent here, to your world. We followed it here and continued to fight."

"My world?" Danielle said, confusion plaguing her once again.

Wheeljack sighed, another human gesture he picked up for Danielle's benefit. "Earth. This is humanity's planet. You are a human."

They had gone over this awkward bit of information a few years ago, when Danielle was insistently curious about why he was so big and metal and she was so tiny and squishy. Trying to make her understand that they were different species was a difficult concept to explain, but a chance encounter with other human refugees thankfully cleared up some confusion. Danielle was distrustful of her own kind, unfortunately, something Wheeljack had expected but was still sorrowful for. He loved the child dearly as his own creation, but he could not help regret how his presence greatly affected Danielle's perception of her place in the world.

"I know…" Danielle said, dragging her words. She bit her lip, still frustrated over something. "But it's _our_ world." _Our_ being indicative of herself and Wheeljack. "'Cause we're here now."

Something pulled harshly on Wheeljack's conscience at her choice of wording. He was no one to claim ownership of earth. He was no Decepticon, but he was still the alien here. His species had brought humanity to this point of desperation. It was because of his people than Danielle knew more of Cybertronians than she did of humans.

"I dare not lay claim to Earth, Danielle," he began gravely. "My species has only harmed it. I do not deserve it."

"Yes, you do!" Danielle exclaimed, adamant. She grinned up at him. "Besides, I'll share it with you."

The naïve innocence that could be found within this one organic creature astounded Wheeljack every time he witnessed it. He could not fathom how a child, who had lost so much, could have a heart so large. He wondered if this was normal for humans, to place love before hate.

To think, he had once almost believed the prejudiced theories of his peers that organics were of a lesser intellect than their own species. The human capacity to feel far outstretched that of a transformer, of this Wheeljack was sure.

"Thank you, Danielle," he said, smiling softly, earfins glowing with content and gentle affection.

The smile Danielle gave him back warmed his spark, making it ache strangely. She turned back to the direction they were headed and walked onwards with a determined gait. She knew danger existed in this world, but she trusted Wheeljack to keep her from those dangers. She trusted in kindness. She believed that good was always stronger than bad. Wheeljack didn't know if that was the wrong thing to let her believe…or a sign of hope he himself should share.

They walked on, in a comfortable silence, before the inevitable question he had long expected arrived:

"Can I take off the scarf now?"

"No, Danny."

**00000**

_Central Spain  
2042 AD_

"Now, if y'would please come down—"

"FUCK OFF!"

A rock hit him solidly in the helm and Jazz wondered for the third time why he was even bothering to talk up at the tree before them.

Nine years after arriving in Europe, Jazz had be pleasantly surprised by the fact that there were far more survivors overseas than there had been in the United States. It was just as brown, with just as many drones and just as many abandoned cities, but there seemed to be more places to hide. Either that, or the new population of humans here seemed far more intent on surviving than they had several decades before over in America. This land was now the cradle for humanity, it seemed.

However, as it turned out, the hardy nature of these brands of survivors applied to all circumstances—and all opponents.

Jazz resisted the urge to sigh, sharing a suffering glance with Thundercracker, who was significantly less patient than he was, and looked borderline murderous. They had made good traveling companions as it had turned out and Jazz forgot on occasion that his companion had once been a vicious 'Con, but the Decepticon qualities in the generally calm Thundercracker came out quickly and assuredly when dealing with the few humans they encountered. And currently, they were dealing with humans—more specifically, one.

They had found the remains of a refuge camp. It had been utterly decimated. Thundercracker was patient as Jazz paid his respects to the deceased humans. There had been a vicious fight; several dead drones were strewn around the organic corpses. Jazz mused that it had been a camp with soldiers. Probably Americans. They were just vicious when cornered and wouldn't hesitate to go down if that meant bringing their enemy down with them.

But as they were leaving, Thundercracker had picked up a heat signature in the trees of the forest they had passed by when approaching the ruined camp. It was far too large to be an animal and the drones did not give off heat, so they felt confident enough to approach. Jazz thought it was naïve of himself to believe they'd find a survivor, but he was pleasantly wrong. There was in fact a human, alive, hiding up in the thick branches of an old oak tree.

The survivor, however, was not very happy to see them. The child—a female—had been holed up in a tree when they had first walked over, but was now even higher in the branches, snarling and issuing warnings laced with profanity even Jazz had to wince at. Sure, life was harsh for this new generation, but he didn't think was possible for such a young mind to know so many obscenities and know them _well_.

So, here he was, trying to talk an enraged and panicked organic down from a large tree. Thundercracker had not been happy to wait around, but was nice enough to let Jazz give it a go. Thundercracker had had even less experience dealing with humans than Jazz had, and they had not encountered too many settlements since they had teamed up. Standing back, Thundercracker let Jazz do the talking—or rather talking up—to the kid.

"Kid, we ain't tryin' t'hurt ya," Jazz said, ducking another rock. He was holding his hands up peacefully. "We're tryin' t'help ya!"

"Like I've never heard that before," the child snarled. She was approaching her teenage years, surely, but she was severely malnourished. Jazz wasn't surprised; just as it was difficult to find clean energy sources for themselves, the humans were probably going without proper food. Sickness was common.

Even without proper nutrition, this human seemed perfectly capable of climbing that tree and hurling rocks down at would-be attackers. Jazz mused that it was probably pure will power to survive that kept her going and let her crouch so poised and tensed up in the upper branches of the old oak.

But she wouldn't last. Jazz knew Thundercracker would have rather left the human to her demise and save themselves the trouble of making sure she got to safety. But Jazz would not leave. He had seen enough death. He was still an Autobot—at least at Spark. And that meant that he couldn't leave a youngling behind to die from exposure.

Cornered and running on pure emotion, the little girl was perfectly content holding up in the tree until the transformers gave up and walked away. But unfortunately for the child, Jazz was just as stubborn as she was.

"You were at th' base, weren't ya? You're th' only survivor we found," he said, optics dimming, sympathetic. He could easily remember what it was like to barely escape a massacre like that. "I'm sorry, kid, I really am. But you gotta come down. This ain't no place for a little kid."

Flinching back behind the trunk of the tree, the child glared down at him. "Why do you care?" she hissed. She had finally run out of ammo and was falling back on just glaring at her opponents.

Trust got you killed on a battlefield. All of Earth was a battlefield; there was no place to escape it. No wonder the kid was bitter, Jazz mused; he wondered sadly if she or her other peers had ever gone a day without worrying about death or another fight. Every moment was a struggle to survive.

Jazz smiled tiredly despite the heavy emotions pressing down on his spark. "See this red sigil?" he asked, pointing at his chest. A faded red face was still poised on the center of his chest plates. "That means I'm an Autobot. You know what we are?"

The girl continued to glare, but thankfully did not seem ready to spit more curses at him. "…You're aliens. All you metal things are aliens," she said at length, bitterness tainting her voice.

"Yeah," Jazz said with a grin, "but we're th' _good_ aliens."

The girl did Not Look Impressed. She glared down at Jazz for a moment, obviously mulling over his words. She glanced up and stared intently at Thundercracker, who was pointedly ignoring everyone. Eye twitching, the girl turned her glare back to Jazz.

"…Why does he have a purple face then?" she asked, suspicious.

 _Ah, slag._ Jazz laughed, covering his frustration. The kid was perceptive. For someone as cynical and untrusting as she was, he wasn't that surprised she honed in on details. That's probably what had kept her alive for so long. He tried to think of a way to explain Thundercracker (who was now giving the two his full attention with a scowl of his own) without scaring the kid or lying to her. Because he doubted she'd take kindly to a lie.

…How did one talk to younglings, again?

"He's, ah, a runaway, ya see," Jazz tried to explain, motioning vaguely with his hand. "We call 'em defectors. He used to be a bad alien, but his bosses didn't want to play nice no more, so he quit."

 _::Apt,::_ Thundercracker said dryly, over a short wave radio signal; it was one of the few wavelengths they felt comfortable communicating on, even if the range was only a few miles. The drones could hone in on them faster if they used anything more advanced.

Jazz withheld a cheeky grin. _::Thank you. I try.::_

The child was not impressed, yet again. "You don't _quit_ being bad, moron," she snapped irritably. She didn't seem any more angry or suspicious, however. She met his optics without hesitating, direct and to the point. "Why should I trust you?"

He didn't really have a reason to give her; he didn't blame her for her skepticism. But they really did not have the time to stand around arguing all day long. Jazz tilted his head and rest his hands on his hips, hoping the human gesture would be comforting to see.

"How old are ya? Nine? Ten?" he asked calmly. The girl's glare intensified. "We'll take ya t' another camp. I can't leave a kid out in th' wilderness by herself."

He had seen enough children die. He couldn't walk away from this one. The ghosts of those mechs and humans he had had to leave behind would never let him rest if he didn't try to save this one life.

"I can survive just fine by myself." He saw the glare was wavering, just slightly.

Jazz smile kindly. "I don't doubt that, missy, but call it a habit. Just 'cause I'm not with other Autobots doesn't mean I can quit being the good guys."

The child stared back, a scowl glue to her face, but she moved slightly to the side, revealing most of her tiny frame. Well-worn clothing hung on her thin limbs and chest. "There aren't any good guys," she said with as much grim seriousness a ten year old could possibly utter. "Mom used to say the same thing. But I'm not stupid. That's why I'm alive and all those idiots are dead."

A gruesome way of looking at it. The kid stood there, gazing down at him with fierce eyes and Jazz stared back, unable to hide his pity. He knew what it was like to be a survivor. He knew what it was like to run solo. Because any other way only led to pain.

"…Will ya get out of th' tree?" he finally asked, forcing another smile. "Please?"

A tense silence fell over the forest. The girl watched him carefully, gauging him and his honesty. Thundercracker remained quiet and watched the scene unfold. For a moment, Jazz thought he would have to resort to more begging.

But the girl moved to the side. She kept her eyes on him the entire time, but to his utter relief, she began to climb down. The withering branches only held a few leaves; most of the branches were beginning to die off. Maybe if the ecosystem was lucky, new sprouts would arrive in the spring to replace the burnt plants.

Jazz didn't offer to help the kid get to the ground; such a move was likely to insult or alarm her. With some effort, the girl finally got to the ground, a bag hanging from her back on a long strap. Her whole life was probably in that bag.

"That's better." He smiled down at her, pointing at himself and then behind him at his companion. "My name's Jazz, by th' way. Tall, dark and gruesome over there is Thundercracker. Don't worry about him. He just likes t'look scary. He's all fluff and cuddles on th' inside."

Thundercracker growled loudly, earning a startled look from the girl and chuckle from Jazz.

"I believe th' sayin' is, 'His bark is worse than his bite," Jazz said, grinning at the human.

The girl gave him a suffered look. "I'm _sure_ …" she said, clearly not trusting him. At least she hadn't tried to run away.

Stepping back, Jazz pointed to the mountains. "I heard there was a camp about fifty miles west of here," he said. "We might be able t' run into a caravan between now and then, but yer more than welcome t' join us to get to th' camp."

Jazz looked down and saw the girl was looking up at him. She was frowning, but at least she wasn't overly angry. He had a feeling she had a similar disposition to Thundercracker; as long as there wasn't too much of a scowl, they were just moderately displeased with the world. Often.

"…Why are you helping me?" the girl finally asked, suspicion ringing in her tone. However, if Jazz tried, he could have sworn he heard just a trickle of hope appearing in her bone-dry cynicism.

Grinning a wide smile, Jazz crouched. "Because I'm a gentleman, and gentlemen would never leave a lady stranded." He wished he could wink.

The girl was still unimpressed. "You're a robot," she deadpanned.

"Mech." A human misconception, one he hadn't heard in decades, so he didn't really mind.

Huffing, the girl's frown increased, but Jazz just grinned back. Another silence fell over the clearing, but it was not the awkward, tense one from before. Instead, Jazz felt a weight he didn't know had been there lift from his shoulders. Thundercracker shifted quietly. Jazz waited for the human to say something else.

Then, without much prompting, the girl started to walk. Jazz found himself following, slower, and let her lead the way. Thundercracker gave him a quieted glare, but follow the girl out as well. The three walked close to the trees in silence.

After awhile, Jazz was walking side by side with the human, who, despite her weary state, kept walking strongly. She kept her head held high, too determined to let mere exhaustion wear her down.

"I'm sorry about yer losses," Jazz said after some time. They were going to get back to one of the roads and then cross over to the other side of a small marsh. The mountains were the ultimate target. "I know what it's like t' lose family."

"My family was already dead," the girl snapped. She didn't even look at him and just walked. "I didn't know very many people at the camp. I switch them up every time a new caravan stops by." Something flashed across her face; momentary but dulled grief. "Picked the wrong one this time."

What a thing for a child to say. Jazz smiled, looking anywhere but the child. "I see. I'm still sorry," he said, honestly. He knew very well the pain of having to leave loved ones behind; they never received the burials they deserved.

The child looked over at him, frowning incredulously. "You're a robot," she countered, confused. "You don't have feelings."

Laughing loudly, Jazz placed his hand over his spark, mockingly insulted. "Ha, a common misconception," he said brightly. "And we ain't robots. We're mechs. We might be metal, but we got sparks—er, hearts."

"Sure…" the girl muttered, looking away.

"Hey, I even know jokes!" he exclaimed. "TC don't care fer them much, but I know humans just love 'em. Wanna hear one?"

The girl's eye twitched. "No."

Laughing quietly, Jazz kept his pace even with the girl's—even as she began to slow down, gradually. She must have been up all night in that tree, recovering and trying to figure out how she was going to survive. If she wasn't tired, Jazz had to begin to doubt she wasn't some sort of machine in her own right.

"You were from New York, weren't ya?" he asked after a few minutes. He smiled when she looked up at him in surprise. "At least, yer parents were?" Given her age, her creators had to have been just her age or less when the drones first attacked. She never would have known America as home, but he could definitely hear a familiar lilt in her speech—not to mention a certain attitude that had to have been hereditary.

"…How did you know?" the girl asked, finally, looking mostly surprised rather than suspicious, which was a good thing.

"Yer personality. Definitely got th' American spark, but with a twist." He chuckled at her still-surprised face. "I used t'know a New York soldier. Ya remind me of him."

He hadn't been particularly close to any of the surviving American soldiers just prior to the total collapse of the military, but certain faces remained somewhat clear in his memory banks. One man—Yardley, Jazz thought—had been a thorough-bred New Yorker and slaggin' proud of it. The girl was quiet, but there was a familiar fire in her; a stubbornness and determination to survive no matter what.

The girl stared at him, stumbling a little over some uncovered tree root, seemingly mulling over his words before trying to answer that. "…Oh."

Jazz tilted his head, interested. "You never been there, hm? Yer parents came from there, right?"

The girl hesitated. "…Right," she said, looking away, almost nervous. Jazz stopped his line of questioning, knowing it was bothering the girl.

He wasn't disappointed by her reaction; she was simply unnerved by his perceptive skills. She was _listening_ , not running away. He didn't expect her to warm up to him quickly, or even in the next few days, but he was pleased by the progress they had made in just the last half hour.

He did make a mental note to keep her away from trees, though. At least for another few days.

They kept walking for another hour. Thundercracker was carefully hiding his irritation, though Jazz knew him well enough to know the ex-Con was annoyed by their slower pace. If it had just been them, Jazz was sure they could have doubled their speed. Rachel had started out swiftly in her walking, but gradually slowed. By the time it was nearing the middle of the afternoon, the girl was practically stumbling, trying to get up a moderately steep hill, dotted with evergreen foliage.

Jazz didn't have to look down at the human to know why she was slowing. Small sniffles and gasping alerted him to her tears. She rubbed furiously at her eyes as she tried to get up further on the hill, stumbling. She was embarrassed by the tears; Jazz was reminded of the ever-valiant Mikaela, who hated to cry more than anything else. He understood why this human would look so ashamed and anguished.

"Y'alright, kid?" he asked quietly.

Shuddering, the girl didn't look at him. She sniffed deeply, rubbing at her eyes, finally slowing to a complete stop. "…You'll take me to another group?" she asked quietly, as if unwilling to belief because she was afraid of a negative response.

Jazz smiled kindly at her when she looked back up at him. The heartbreaking and utterly child-like fear in her face yanked at his spark horribly. "Sure," he said calmly, soothingly. "We don't find them often, but never say never, kiddo."

The name he had tacked on at the end of his response earned the reaction he was hoping for. The girl stopped crying and stared at him with a defensive frown. "Stop calling me that," she complained, tough-walls going up immediately. "I'm _not_ a kid."

Grinning, Jazz felt successful, going in for the kill. "What's yer name then?" he challenged.

She was a smart kid, but Jazz hadn't managed to get to his level in the Autobot army without his ability to talk anyone down to his level. The girl stared at him, hesitating, but clearly less defensive.

"…Rachel," she finally said, looking away, almost embarrassed.

Jazz beamed. "Pleased t'meet ya, Rachel."

Jaw set, the little girl met his gaze without fear, lingering doubt and embarrassment tinging her expression, but after a moment, she turned and started climbing again.

But this time, Rachel kept talking.

"I hate being alone," she said quietly. "Everyone's dead."

Bouncing from camp to camp, Jazz knew the kid must have met a lot of people. The threat of being alone probably prompted her vagabond lifestyle. Too bad she hadn't moved fast enough this time.

"Not everyone," he replied brightly. There would always be another human refugee hidden away, waiting to be found. He was sure of this. "We'll get ya t' another camp, don't you worry."

Rachel glanced at him. "They said you guys were dead. The Autobots," she said carefully.

"Nah. We're…just as scattered as th' humans are." Jazz laughed sharply, shaking the images of his dead comrades away from his processors, firmly holding onto his cheerful persona for all its worth. "And we're just as tricky t' kill. We're survivors, Rachel. Both our species."

Biting her lip, Rachel murmured, "…I hope so."

Visor glowing lowly, Jazz smiled, meeting her eyes. "Hope's a great thing, Rachel, lemme tell you," he said, to her, himself and his silently listening companion. "If you got that, you don't need anything else." This he didn't need to convince himself to believe in.

"Except for food," Rachel deadpanned. She did not look amused. "And shelter. And first aid."

For the briefest of moments, Jazz wanted to drop his smile and wallow in self-pity. The child, in all of her minute organic presence, suddenly made him think of a black and white mech he had once known a long, long time ago. A mech who's life was run by logic—and who commanded Jazz's life and love for just a brief moment in time, before fate and war had cruelly separated them.

The image vanished, obliterated by Jazz himself as he laughed loudly. "Aw, cripes, you're one of _those_ ," he said, teasingly. He called out to his fellow transformer. "TC, I found your long lost human half. You literal pessimists should stick together."

Thundercracker's optics narrowed. "Shut up, slagger."

Rachel's eye twitched. "What he said. Shut up."

Jazz grinned.

Fifty miles later, Jazz was surprised to find the ruins of another camp. He was surprised when he saw Thundercracker hesitate as Rachel went past them to observe the carnage.

To his own amusement, he was less surprised when a strangely determined Rachel began to march away from the camp and told him to hurry up, since they were losing daylight. Jazz watched her go, smiling quietly.

They made false promises everyday after that, that when the next group of survivors was found (and they were), they'd go their separate ways. But excuses were made. Detours were taken. And day after day, Jazz began to find his own reasons for delaying another goodbye.

Three years later, Jazz found no reason to think it strange to curl against Thundercracker, cupping an organic child between them, at night, as if the three of them made up the entire world and nothing else mattered. And that was okay by him.

**00000**

_Northern Europe  
2042 AD_

_Disperazione. Désespoir. Wanhoop. Verzweiflung._ Despair.

She knew many words in other languages, but that was simply because she had grown up with at least five languages being hurled around the confines of the mountain strong holds she and her family had taken shelter at. The one they had been staying at for the last seven years had a mix of displaced Spaniards, Frenchmen, some Dutch, and British, her clan being part of the latter. It was impossible for her generation to grow up without becoming at least partially bi-, tri-or even quad-lingual.

Kassandra was greeted that morning with various words from other refugees, but it all came back to that one sentiment: _despair_. She couldn't blame any of them for feeling so down; they had lost a hunting party yesterday. It had been dangerously close to their camp, but the Drones thankfully moved on without detecting their group's presence in the lower cliffs of the Alps. But a loss was still a loss; their camp of ninety-three was now eighty-eight.

Walking by a family who had lost a brother in the attack, Kass focused on returning to her own family, who had taken up residence toward the back of the system of caves the camp had settled into. It was darker and damper, but there was less noise. She really didn't like noise.

She found her mother making their pallets, tucking in each bed with the care she put into nearly every aspect of what she did. Lisa Hall made the best of everyday and refused to do anything in a "half-assed" way, much to her children and husband's amusement.

"Only you would care about being a housewife in the ruddy apocalypse," her husband joked often.

"You love it," Lisa would snap back, mockingly irritated.

Kass grinned at her mother's back, letting the aging woman do what she did best. Glancing around, she found who she had been looking for initially.

Kevin Hall was three years younger than Kass was, but had more spunk and energy than the older girl. Kass was generally busy for the majority of the day watching out for her younger brother, making sure he wasn't getting into any serious trouble.

But today, she found him curled up on his bed, back to the world, staring at the cave wall. Kass stood there, glancing at her mother, who gave her a meaningful nod of the head, before looking down at Kevin, who had not acknowledged her presence.

Carefully, Kass sat down on the edge of the pallet and stared sideways at her brother. Kevin was never quiet, except when asleep or eating. Or grieving. That last one happened far too often, in Kass' opinion. A seven year old should never be that quieted by grief.

"You alright, mate?" she asked quietly. Their mother was listening in, but let Kass take the reigns when it came to managing Kevin.

"M'fine," came the muffled answer. He, thankfully, unwound a little and sat up, looking back at her with bleary red eyes.

"Sure." Kass reached over and poked his arm. "Wanna go for a walk?"

Kevin looked down at his worn sneaker-clad feet, where his toes could stick out through the tops if he pushed them up. "I don't wanna see all those crying people," he mumbled, reluctant. "They make me wanna cry."

Smiling slightly, Kass leaned back a little on the pallet. "S'alright to cry, y'know," she replied casually. Her father had given her a similar talk not that long ago.

"No it's not," Kevin replied, bitter. His eyes were dark with mixed emotions. "I'm a man. Men don't cry."

An opening. Kass grinned mercilessly. "Little brother, men don't cry," she began, teasing, "but you aren't a man. So, it's alright."

She laughed as she ducked a poorly aimed elbow jab.

"Shut it," Kevin snapped, trying to be angry, but falling back more into an irritated state.

Kass grinned, patting his back, ignoring his grumpy attitude. "Aw, come on, Kev. Walk with me."

It took a little prompting, but Kass was soon leaving their tiny portion of the caves and was guiding Kevin through the maze of corridors and paths that made up the camp. It was easy to get lost, but seven years had given Kass lots of time to get used to the terrain. She barely remembered what the sky looked like, but her parents sometimes dragged her out during the summer to get a glimpse at the outside world. As much as she despised the cramped quarters and the wet rock, Kass preferred to be safe—and it was safe inside the caves.

They weren't headed outside today, for that very reason. The camp was on lockdown, with guards constantly shifting on duty to watch for any sneak attacks from the drones. Her father had long shifts keeping watch. There was no hope of preventing an attack, not with them backed into the caves, but the warnings from the guards would give the others time to escape through the back entrances to the mountains. That didn't always make Kass or her mother or brother feel better when their father was away for so long, though. They persevered nonetheless.

"I feel so bad for Jimmy," Kevin suddenly blurted as they made their way to one of the back hallways, where few people other than guards walked around. Kevin glared at the ground, kicking at peddles. "His mum's a wreck."

"Yeah. I'd be a wreck too," Kass said, trying not to think of what it would be like to lose Kevin, or anyone in their family. It would be horrible.

They sat down on broken stalactites—her father taught her that and other things; she had lots of books tucked away under her bed—and were quiet for a bit. Kass let her brother think by himself. He knew he could talk to her. She prided herself on being someone he could go to, even more so than their parents. She wanted to be a good big sister.

"D'you think the drones are gonna find us here?" Kevin suddenly asked, looking over at her, eyes earnest, his true worry finally showing up.

They had moved around three times, only once when Kevin was aware of what was happening. This was by far the most secure and the one they had gone undiscovered for the longest. Kass shivered when she remembered their flight from one camp, that had only a few hours warning before a swarm had launched an attack on them.

She liked it in the caves, even if it was quiet. She didn't want to imagine leaving. More than anything, she didn't want to scare Kevin.

"We've made it this long, dummy," she said, playfully rapping the younger boy on the head with her knuckle. "As long as we keep doing what we've always done, everything will be fine."

Kevin made a sour expression, grabbing his head. "Hey…"

Laughing, Kass let her brother slap her arm before rushing away from any counter attack she might have launched. She was happy when her family was happy; they were all she had. She had witnessed so many others lose those they love. She knew she was insanely lucky.

Nothing else mattered than seeing her little brother finally laugh and smile back at her, worries temporarily alleviated.

"Come on. Let's get back and help mum with lunch," she said gently, extending a hand toward the younger boy.

In the frigid confines of their mountain home, the tiny hand gripping her own warmed her heart until she thought it would burst.

 _Esperanza_ _. Espoir. Hoffnung._ Hope.

**00000**

_Earth_

All he knew was pain. He had forgotten what it was like to feel wind. To feel anything but pain, really. His energy levels were so low, every new lash felt worse than the last. He was kept on the brink of death, never higher or lower. Death would have been merciful.

But the soldiers of Megatron had never been merciful. They had not been merciful when they murdered his family or his city-state millennia before. He knew better than to expect mercy from the soldiers of Galvatron—who was so very much worse than his previous incarnate.

He had been there for—he really didn't know. Perhaps a few of the planet's stellar cycles. When he had been captured, there were many Decepticons. Many, many Decepticons. Always enough to make his waking moments the Pit. He couldn't even ask his jailors about the time; his vocalizer had fritzed out early on into his confinement. He had no intel to give them, so he never knew why they kept him, to beat, to pummel, to torture. He was alive, though. That was something to consider.

So he was left in silence—other than the screams of other captured mechs and his own, when it came time for his joor of beatings, that is. Mechs and humans screamed in symphony together at that time. He never did have the opportunity to see one of the natives to the planet they were on, but he heard them enough. The Decepticons liked to make sports out of them. He tried not to listen in on those events, but the screams…the screams always found a way to cycle over and over in his processors.

But then, the screaming stopped one orn. It was just cut off. For the longest time, he had thought they were starting to kill off the prisoners. But no one ever came for him. The meager energon ration dripping into his systems continued, at its ever-slow pace. The torture stopped, if one didn't consider the silence to be torture. He almost missed the sound of other living things, even the screaming. He wished he could still scream, if only to make noise.

He expected to be greeted one morning by his executioners rather than torturers, but that day never arrived. Every waking moment was spent waiting and listening and praying for a sound in that horrible fortress of dark and decay underneath their mountain stronghold.

But there was never another sound. He could hear the dripping of energon and the scraping he made whenever he could find the strength to move his ruined legs on the rock floor. He kept listening. For a long, long time.

He listened in vain day after day, until finally, he accepted the facts. There was no salvation coming for him. There was only deactivation by energon deprivation once the reserves ran dry. But he did not want to die, not now. He had life in him still. He wanted to see the stars…to see Cybertron, one last time. He had no idea if his enemies, or his allies, would ever find his dark cell again, but he would not give them an empty shell, for their satisfaction or dismay.

Optics closing, Bluestreak began his emergency stasis protocols, shutting down his systems, and waited for the long darkness to take him.

.

**_Introductions: Part Two_ end.**

**_Part Three_ to follow.**


	3. Introductions: Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fallout**  
>  " **Introductions: Part 3"**  
>  by Nan00k
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. **  
> Warnings** : character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_Europe  
2043 AD_

He was no strategist. His brother had been the strategist, making plans, scheming, thinking ahead—that was never his style. He had no reason to think about the future, because Onslaught did it for all of them.

But now Onslaught was dead. Swindle was dead. Brawl, Blast Off—

Vortex was alone.

Memories of his brothers—the ghosts of their psyches—were all Vortex had left of them, of their bond. Bonds were never supposed to break, not like that. They had had no warning when Galvatron began the executions. They had thought it had been for traitors, which they were not. They never expected the new pets their master had received from his anonymous new friend to suddenly turn on them.

Vortex had escaped only because he could fly and because he had been faster than Swindle and Blast Off had been. He escaped into the wilderness of a burning Earth. He didn't get far. The shattered bond sent him into a temporary coma—a cold, cold madness. He couldn't breathe or think. All he felt was the agony of his brothers' deaths echo over and over in his Spark. He felt their pain, their terror, their final moment of realization before their sparks were extinguished like flames.

He did not expect to wake up from that living hell.

But when his processors did online, he was alone. He had never been alone. Ever. The gestalt team had onlined together and, Autobot-esque sentimentalities aside, he had expected them to offline together as well. It was just the way it was. Gestalts did not survive a loss of a member, let alone the majority of each other.

Vortex walked back into life with a hole in his spark…but very much alive. He didn't know where on this organic planet he was, or where the other Decepticons were. He didn't know if it was safe to look for any. There were no guarantees about _anything_ now. He just...walked onward.

It was strange; he could think clearer than he ever had before. That was because of the silence. The silence was horrible. He couldn't hear Swindle's inane conversation or Blast Off's arrogant self-appreciation. There was no snarky bickering between the conniving Onslaught and the violent Brawl. For the first time, Vortex's mind was his and his alone. He hated it.

He wandered aimlessly. His propellers had been torn up by the drones and then smashed horribly when he crashed back to earth when the backlash of the bond hit him. Vortex contemplated just ending his life; his gestalt and ability to fly were gone. He had no purpose, not with Galvatron gone and the drones mindless murderers. The war was over, as far as Vortex could reason. He had no purpose, not when there were no longer Autobots to torture or intel to steal.

But Vortex snapped out of that line of thinking quickly, because every time he considering igniting his weapon's protocol, something else went wrong with his internal systems. Energy levels were reaching critical lows. Increased damage to his dermal plating due to the natural environment or a tight scrape with a swarm of drones. Every time one of those warnings popped up on his HUD, thoughts of suicide dried up quicker than high-grade at a party in Kaon. He needed to survive—he had to. There was no other option.

Onslaught had been the thinker. Vortex needed that skill now to survive—so he remembered what Onslaught did. How he thought, how he felt through their gestalt bond. Vortex prided himself on being himself. To be unique, in a gestalt team, was everything. They had to stay afloat in the midst of five other personalities, who were always connected and always touching.

Now was no time to be unique. He had lost the need to be that individual when his brothers offlined. He would be whom he needed, not what he wanted.

So he became a thinker. He stole what he remembered of Onslaught's intelligence. He thought before he moved, watching for details. Vortex found himself making plans and considering the future, something he never did before. There had never been a need. In a world like this, he had no choice but to plan. He planned for everything.

Several solar cycles after the fall of the Decepticon army, Vortex found himself making another plan. This time, the plan did not just mean scavenging for left over energy materials from fallen human machines, or attempting to create a solar array from an energy plant.

No, today, he was following two mechs and a human.

He had found them by accident. They had apparently all chosen the same town to ransack. The moment he had sensed the mechs in the area, he hid in one of the abandoned buildings, weapons raised. He did not know what to expect, especially when one of them still registered as _Autobot_ on his sensors.

Vortex wasn't surprised when the Autobot walked out (albeit warily) into his line of sight, oblivious to his presence. It was a small grounder, probably a survivor from one of the later teams. He didn't look too shabby. Vortex could take him in a fight, even without his wings.

That sentiment promptly imploded in his processor when the Autobot's friend—big, _big_ friend—came out from behind the wall. The new mech was gigantic and a flier; his wings were in far better condition than Vortex's propellers. Both mechs were healthier looking than Vortex had expected; his abused systems screamed silently in jealousy.

But what really threw him for a loop was the fact that this new mech was not an Autobot. On his broad blue and gray chest stood out a purple sigil that Vortex also wore—the face of the Unmaker, the symbol of the Decepticon empire.

A Decepticon and an Autobot were walking through the city, clearly working together to find resources or something else of value. Vortex stared in disbelief. The scene only grew worse when a small native, a human—who seemed disgustingly cheerful for such a horrid terrain—joined the two mechs. The three talked quietly, clearly wary of their environment, but they seemed comfortable with each other at least.

…Why? Why was the Decepticon there, with the Autobot? There was no way this was a hostage situation, from either angle. If Vortex didn't know any better, the two mechs were almost amicably talking, making odd conversation between them and the disgustingly small organic. They kept pace with the rodent even! He could understand perhaps why the Autobot would degrade himself to enduring the seemingly inane noise the human was making, but—

It was when the Decepticon _willingly_ reached down toward the chattering _human_ and let her _cling_ his hand to get her over the barricade of cars and debris that Vortex almost lost his cool. He wanted to react in the way he always did. He wanted answers. His curiosity demanded them—he wanted to beat it out of them, make them scream that precious intel to him, just like they would have before, when the world made sense, and he was still a Decepticon, and Bruticus still lived—

When he was still _Vortex_ and not trying to live his brother's life.

Limbs shaking, Vortex let his helm rest heavily on the wall of his hideaway. His energy levels were still too low. There was no way, even if he were fully charged, that he could tackle them anyway. That jet could probably rip him in half. The Autobot was probably vicious too; only the strongest survived the initial assault. Vortex would have no chance getting answers the way he had always gotten them before, through brutal force.

He tried to think of what Onslaught would do. Even what Swindle would do, considering his level of intellect. They wouldn't charge out there to cause a fight. They would stay back, observe. Brawl and Blast Off would have wanted a fight, as would the old Vortex…but something in his processors told Vortex to mimic his eldest brother right now.

He crept slowly toward the quickly departing trio, mindful of his footsteps. Tracking them would be easy enough; with only one flier, they were as much pinned to the ground as he was. He would observe, just like Onslaught would have said. He would follow a tactical strategy, one that would make his eldest brother proud. Being Vortex could wait until he had the opportune moment—whenever that was.

Reaching the edge of a half-crumbled building, Vortex saw the trio again. They were stopped at a fueling station, attempting make the crude energy source work for the Transformers. Vortex's systems churned at the idea of using that substance again. It was a horrid product and wreaked havoc on his innards. His energy levels were always desperately low, but he couldn't bring himself to use the human-made slag.

The Decepticon and Autobot didn't seem to mind the rancid mix, filling their tanks manually. Huh. Vortex would have to try that rather than attempting to _drink_ the vile substance.

He watched with a patience he had never expected would come from him, as the two mechs re-fueled and conversed casually with the human. They spoke the native tongue of the human, making their conversation unintelligible to the lurking Decepticon helicopter. He wished he had managed to obtain the basic intel files before everything went to Pit, but none of the newest arriving teams had the chance to do so. Earth's languages were alien to him, just as its culture and environment was.

Vortex didn't need to understand their language to understand their body language. The casual caresses shared between the mechs—the easy smiles exchanged between all three—the overall gentle atmosphere of their unit—it made Vortex want to scream. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair that he was left to wonder and stew in his curiosity.

He would follow them until he found out the truth. There had to be a secret involved, something sinister, or at least bizarre, that an Autobot and Decepticon would willingly travel, let alone with an organic. There had to be an insanely complex reason for why they traveled together. Vortex would find out what it was—no matter what.

The trio re-fueled quickly, obviously wary of an incoming attack from the drones. Cities weren't the best place to hang around for long. After a few cycles, they began to walk away. Vortex watched them, deciding to follow at a distance. He couldn't let them be aware of his presence. He had no worries about losing them; his radar tracking was more than adequate for keeping tabs on them. He could give them miles of a head start.

Once they had disappeared from visual sight, Vortex moved forward, walking toward the fueling station. He didn't know what he'd find, but he _would_ find it. After so long with just the ghosts of conversations replaying in his processors, this chase was a gift from Primus. He could make this his purpose, for just a while.

Vortex stopped where the mechs had been standing moments before. He stared at the fuel pump and pondered.

Adaptation was the key to survival. To survive, Vortex needed to use the methods of others. He needed to become someone else. He needed to wear masks—and wear them well.

At least, that's what Onslaught would have said.

Vortex reached down and grabbed the pump.

 **00000**

 _Western Switzerland  
2044 AD_

The sound of the river flowing reached Barnaby's ears all the way up the incline where they had made camp. It had taken he and Goddard almost all day to carry up all the rocks they needed. His hands were cold and bright red, achy from having to haul the rocks up. Barns ignored them, focusing on making sure the graves were properly stacked. He wouldn't stand for imperfection in their form.

Behind him, Goddard was holding up his finished pack; they had condensed the supplies from the packs his grandparents had carried for so many years. Piers Goddard was a soldier, an American refugee. He was probably half his grandparent's ages, but he was quicker and faster than anyone Barns had ever met before. They had met at a camp when Barns had just been five years old, and Goddard offered to stay with the Rancourts. They had traveled together ever since.

Goddard was the closest thing Barns could have to a father, but sitting there in front of the stone pyramids they had built from river rocks, Barns felt alone. In his lap, Armand Rancourt's compass sat heavy. The glass cover was cracked and the needle never pointed north. But it was a remnant from the days before the war. It had been Armand's father's compass. Barns had often questioned the point of keeping the broken heirloom, which never worked and weighed them down heavily—

But as he flipped the compass in his hands, Barns suddenly could not imagine leaving the object behind now.

He was twelve years old. His grandmother was vigilant when it came to telling the time as well as the date. They had just celebrated his twelfth birthday last week. They had celebrated by telling stories of his family's history, about previous birthdays, and of the most memorable ancestors. Barns had gone to sleep that night content and happy, and that feeling persisted every night for a week.

Barns had not expected waking up that gray Saturday morning and being unable to wake his grandmother. He had tried to wake his grandfather in a panic, but realized with belated horror, that both were dead.

There were positives to be found here, he told himself, as he adjusted the makeshift crosses he had made from sticks and twine. They had not died a violent death. They had died in each other's arms, safe, warm, with family by their side. In a world like this, their sort of death was almost a luxury.

As much as that idea soothed his heartache, Barns could not help feel as though he were falling. To lose both of them at the same time, without any time to say goodbye…

It was as though when they decided their time was up, they did so together. Barns smiled softly. The love his grandparents had shared was both heartbreaking and heartwarming.

"Does this look alright?" he asked, accent tinting his words just barely. His grandmother had forced the French out of his English. He didn't feel like trying to hide it today, though.

Goddard smiled kindly, his stubble-covered face wrinkling. "It looks just fine, Barnaby," he said. He had a loud voice, but he seemed like he was trying to speak quieter, to match the gentle look on his face. "You've done them proud, kid. They couldn't ask for more."

Barns stared at the graves and sighed quietly. He had prepared himself for this moment over the last few years, as he began to notice his once-energetic grandparents starting to slow down. Armand Rancourt had to be helped up and down hills. Barns had to carry both his and Allete's supplies, because she just couldn't carry her own anymore. It still hurt, though.

"I wish we had more time, grand-peré," Barns murmured, reaching out with the compass. He meant to set it up against the wooden cross sticking out from the rock tomb that now housed his grandfather's remains.

But a weathered, strong hand stopped him. Goddard crouched, hand wrapped around the wrist holding the compass. The American smiled gently at Barns.

"They would want you to keep that, son," he said, pushing the hand and compass back toward the boy.

Barns hesitated. He did want to keep it, but… "It doesn't feel right to take it, though," he said, looking away.

"Keep it," Goddard replied, shaking his shoulder, comforting. "It's a part of them you can carry with you, no matter what."

Nodding, Barns stared down at the compass, realizing that the man was right. The compass didn't work anymore, but it was still a part of his family's history. It was only worthwhile in a sentimental sense. Barns didn't know if that meant it was worth keeping…but he did want to keep it. He tightened his grip over the round object and tried to memorize the grooves and dents, the same ones his grandfather had probably memorized over the years.

"I am selfish," he said suddenly. He stopped, surprised at his own words.

Goddard flinched, also surprised. "No, you ain't, kid," the older man said firmly, frowning in disapproval.

Barnaby stared at the graves. He couldn't help what he was feeling and he indeed felt selfish for those thoughts. "I would rather them continue to live in this horrible life…always running…always afraid…" He stopped and then closed his eyes, fist clenching tighter over the compass. "I would rather them still be alive with me in that life, than at peace like they are now."

"Wishful thinking doesn't make us selfish," Goddard replied, shaking his head. He stood, standing far taller than Barns would for several more years. "Letting go of the ones you love is never easy, Barns."

Barns stared down at the grave and then back at the compass. To think, things had been normal last week. It had just been the four of them, but that had been enough. Now, only two remained. Barns had no idea how he would survive if he didn't have Goddard there with him.

But there was no time for pity. Barns sighed again and sat back. Stopping for too long was not safe. His grandparents had done everything they could have possibly done to keep him alive, against all odds. He would not give up now and make all of their sacrifices go to waste. It was the very least he could do.

"…I am happy they went this way," Barns said, standing slowly. "Without pain. Together."

Goddard looked down at his long time friends and nodded. "Yeah. Me, too."

Compass tucked away in his pocket, Barns stared down at his grandparents' graves, wondering if he'd ever be able to pay them respects again. Perhaps he would. He would have to reference his grandmother's maps with extra care. He would mark this place off, to find again, if fate ever led them this way later on.

"What now, Goddard?" he asked, turning to his only companion. Armand had always picked the locations, being the eldest, or he and Goddard decided together.

The answer was what Barns had been expecting. "We move," Goddard said, adjusting his much heavier bag awkwardly on his shoulder. "We do what we've always done." Goddard smiled wryly. "You're a big boy now. Almost a man. You have to worry about your own future now, just like your grandparents would have wanted you to."

Barns couldn't argue with that. Survival was always what mattered the most, right after family. Life moved on, leaving the dead behind.

Taking a deep breath, Barns faced the graves of the only blood family he had left. Letting go would be impossibly hard. But he had to begin somewhere. And somewhere began with this. He crouched before the graves one last time.

"… _Au revoir_ , grand-meré. Grand-peré," he whispered, his heart somehow sinking and flying with emotion all at the same time. "Thank you. For everything."

He stood and grabbed his bag. Every step he took, it was as though his pack grew lighter and lighter until he thought he could just fly away. But he kept himself grounded—eyes on the horizon.

 **00000**

 _Germany, Europe  
2045 AD_

"Jazzzzzzzz."

Jazz pretended not to hear the tiny femme's exaggerated cry as he sidestepped a fallen tree.

"Jazz. Jazz. _Jazzzzzz_."

Thundercracker was immensely less patient than Jazz was. "For Primus sake, answer her," the jet snapped, a few paces ahead, ducking tree branches. He was still pissy over the fact they were taking the low route through the dense forests of Germany. He preferred the open paved roads, even if they were more obvious to enemies.

Jazz glanced down at Rachel who was trying to keep an angry face, though he could see a grin breaking through the surface. "What's up?" he asked with perfect innocence. That sent the girl grinning stupidly.

"You jerk," she said, giggling. "I wanted to ask for a lift. I'm tired of walking."

With an exaggerated heavy sigh, Jazz turned and crouched, a hand extended. "Geeeez, you're such a pain. Hop on."

They bickered amicably, even as Rachel carefully sat down on Jazz's razor sharp claws. Well, they were very dull by now from lack of maintenance, but Rachel was still deliberately careful.

Inwardly, Jazz was very pleased at her quickness to trust him with such deadly hands. To think he had set up such a repertoire with the stubborn and cynical child was astounding. Three years had gone by as quickly as time would allow it to pass. He had expected the child to run off at the first chance, but Rachel had apparently found a reason to stay. Jazz couldn't fathom why, even after they had run into a few other refugees, she didn't want to go with her own kind.

Then again, it pained his spark to think of the human leaving. Three years used to be nothing. But not on Earth. On Earth, a single day lasted forever.

"I can't see anything," Rachel complained from Jazz's back, where she had climbed on, wrapping her legs around his neck. She was still too short to see over the trees, which Jazz had to carefully duck around now, with her there. "You're too short, Jazz."

"Says the four foot tall human!" Jazz laughed. He laughed again at her slapping hands on the back of his helm. "A'ight, a'ight, four and half foot tall."

Rachel looked over at Thundercracker. "Can you see ahead, TC?" she asked, intent on getting some answers. "Are we almost to the river?"

"All I can see are trees. And more trees. Always more fragging trees," Thundercracker replied, not even looking at her. Jazz suppressed a smirk that would have earned him a snarl from the ex-Decepticon. "You'd think without the leaves, it'd be clear as day in here."

"It's smoky," Rachel commented, frowning.

"It's fog," Jazz replied. Which was always good; no fire meant no nearby attacks. He was about as relaxed as he dared to be while not in a cave. The drones could still sneak up on them. They had been particularly active in that area, so they kept to the dead forests.

They walked in silence, ducking branches. Jazz liked to talk about human culture, which was something Rachel was moderately affiliated with, and Thundercracker didn't mind learning (not that he'd ever admit that, though), but the comfortable silence they fell into was nice enough. Far away, he could hear birds chirping, a rare sound. It warmed his spark to know that life was returning to the area. So much had been lost.

He was so caught up in the peace and quiet the forest seemed to emanate that he almost didn't catch the blip on his radar. Thundercracker's fritzed out often, due to the high-capacity Seeker model needing advanced fueling, so Jazz was left to monitor duty while they traveled. It took everything Jazz had in him not to freeze and drop into a defensive stance. Whatever was on his tracker was _big_ —and Cybertronian. His radar wasn't in much better condition than Thundercracker's and the image faded quickly from sight, but it was still registering on radio wave as a presence a few hundred yards in front of them.

He had options to chose from, other than turning and running. Jazz almost didn't believe that it was possible that he was picking up a definite Cybertronian signal that wasn't a drone. It… _seemed_ like a mech.

But that could still be bad news. Even an Autobot could be a threat at this point; allies were rare in this harsh landscape. One false move could send an Autobot after Thundercracker or a Decepticon after Jazz and Rachel. To say the situation was delicate was an understatement.

So, he picked his choice quickly, trying to avoid scaring the teenager sitting on his shoulders. Panicking was _not_ a good option.

"Hey, TC, com'ere," Jazz said carefully. He turned slightly, optics still focused straight ahead, but gave Thundercracker access to Rachel on his back. "Why don't ya give Rachel a lift? She could see better from yer shoulders."

Thundercracker looked both startled and annoyed; he had long since been acclimated to Rachel's presence and even tolerated the human as much as he tolerated Jazz, but he did not share Jazz's inclinations to pick the child up at the spur of the moment.

But TC was a smart mech, much smarter than Jazz ever thought he'd believe a Decepticon could be. He heard the silent warning in Jazz's request, and, with only a small frown, went and retrieved Rachel from Jazz's shoulders. Rachel probably sensed something was up and began to look around nervously from Thundercracker's hands.

"Are there drones?" she asked, lowering her voice. That was unlikely.

Jazz grinned at her, comfortingly. "I dunno. They do seem to be everywhere, huh?" He continued to walk, but now increased his speed, putting himself further in front of the other two, who followed at a slower pace. "I thought I saw somethin' ahead on my radar, so I'm gonna check it out, 'kay?"

Rachel scowled grumpily, but remained in Thundercracker's grasp, looking around vigilantly. She wanted to be able to get into the fights they were often forced to fight, but like any refugee, she understood her limits. It was relieving for Jazz to know she was that savvy when it came to their situation, but he hoped this time, he was only being paranoid.

Weapons just slightly activating, Jazz pressed on through the foliage, trying to peer out into the fog. He saw, finally, the end to the line of trees, where the fog finally bled out. He could see dead grass ahead; perhaps a field.

"If they're drones, they're really quiet this time," Rachel whispered.

Thundercracker grunted noncommittally. "Could be more refugees."

Jazz motioned at them to be quiet and he crept closer to the edge of the forest. He heard Thundercracker stop and he moved ahead alone. He could hear the sounds clearer now; a thudding sound. Footsteps.

Then, in the midst of the other silence, Jazz heard a sound he hadn't heard for a long time: a child giggling.

It was soft, the origins still far ahead. But it was human and it strangely made his spark ache.

The second sound was more startling that anything else. Footsteps. Large ones. A mech's footsteps. Creaking of metal. A louder, duller thud, of someone large sitting. More giggling. Rubber bouncing. A low, but very much defined voice carried in the air.

 _Primus above…!_

A mech. There was a mech there, sitting in the field. A human was running around him, both occupied by something being through between them.

He had never thought he'd see another mech, let alone an Autobot. He didn't doubt the mech's faction, considering how familiar the mech was being with the child, who was clearly about Rachel's age.

His first instinct was to run out, jump for joy, and make contact with his estranged brethren. But the reality of the situation sunk in. Running out would only startle to Autobot and, if it were him out there, he'd consider such rash action to be an attack. He had to approach the two carefully.

Luckily, he had a human of his own.

Turning around, Jazz found Thundercracker and Rachel waiting. Both were alert and waiting for his report on what was going on.

"Hey, Rachel, com'ere," Jazz said, reaching for her. Rachel looked surprised and Thundercracker was unamused. He grinned at them both, mischievous. "Trust me."

Rachel trusted him as much as the poor survivor could trust anyone, but was very tense as he carried her forward toward the tree line.

"Not drones?" she asked, glancing back at him.

"Nope. I think I found ya a playmate, though," Jazz replied, grinning. He glanced back at Thundercracker, shaking his head. "Hang back, TC, we may need some support, but I doubt it. You might scare people if ya get too close."

His words did not sooth the jet's concerns probably, but the ex-Con did stop short of the tree line, watching the scene unfold carefully. He was probably seeing the strange mech and child now.

Jazz carefully set Rachel down onto the field. She looked up at him and then the field. She froze, eyes wide. She could see the two figures far ahead of them, it seemed.

"This place seems like a great place t' have some fun," Jazz said, catching her wide-eyed attention. "So, let's have some fun. It might convince our mech and little girl over there that we're not th' bad guys."

"You want to make sure they won't attack us, you mean," Rachel said, her eyes narrowing. "Smart."

Jazz withheld a chuckle; he had forgotten Rachel was rather quick. He gently pushed Rachel forward. "Let's play nice, hmm? What's a good human game—?"

It took all his willpower not to whip his hand out and grab Rachel away when the rubber ball went flying toward them. The mech had tossed the toy he and his human friend were playing with a bit too hard—it went flying past the strange little girl, who laughed loudly, turning on her heels to retrieve it.

The child stopped abruptly when the ball smack straight into Jazz's leg, making a startling loud sound and then roll back toward her and the other mech. Freezing, the girl stared at Jazz and Rachel with unshielded surprise.

Behind her, the mech finally noticed and Jazz flinched instinctually when the mech activated his weapons—nothing much to speak of, he noticed in hindsight—and stood, swiftly. The mech's optics paled immediately, his gaze completely pinned to Jazz. He ignored the humans, obviously recognizing the strange Autobot as the threat.

Jazz, of course, was unaffected by the cold welcome. Beaming, Jazz waved cheerfully at the mech and the human, who seemed frozen in shock and nervous anxiety. He pointed less-than-subtly at his chest, at his Autobot sigil.

"Hey, there! Name's Autobot Jazz and this here is Rachel," he said, grinning pleasantly. "Who're y'all?"

The girl stared, her eyes huge, and the mech looked like he was debating fighting or fleeing. Neither spoke.

"Maybe they don't speak English," Rachel suggested, looking up at Jazz, frowning.

That was a possibility for the human, but the mech would have known Cybertronian. That would have limited the conversation to just himself and the mech, however, and Jazz wanted the other human involved as well. Tricky.

"Hmm. You're right." Jazz grinned down at his friend, teasing. "What country are we in?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, something Jazz was always jealous that humans could do. They had the best facial expressions. "You're _supposed_ to be keeping track," she complained. "I think we're in Germany."

"Right. _Allo! Ich heisse Jazz. Wer sind Sie?_ " he asked, turning to the strangers.

The mech tilted his head. "We do speak English," he said. His voice was oddly…flat. American-ized English.

"Good," Rachel said, smiling hesitantly. "'Cause I don't speak German."

The strange girl was staring at Rachel with open shock and interest. "You're a human?" she asked.

Jazz glanced down at Rachel, who looked back up at him with a similar uncertain look.

"Um. Yes? What are _you_?" Rachel replied, arching an eyebrow of disbelief. Her snark was her best weapon, Jazz mused.

"I'm human," the other human replied, not insulted, but still surprised. "But I hardly see any others. It's just been me and Wheeljack."

"Wheeljack and I," the strange mech corrected her, his earfins flashing suddenly. If it weren't for the blast mask covering the lower part of his faceplates, Jazz would have bet the mech was smiling.

The girl hesitated. "Yeah, Wheeljack and I."

"Nice t'a meet ya, Wheeljack. I see you're a 'Bot, too," Jazz said, tapping his own sigil on his chest again. "Not that that means much lately, I s'ppose, but a friendly face is a friendly face."

"I never thought I'd live to see another Autobot," Wheeljack replied. He hesitated, but the mask remained in place. He was either paranoid, or liked the mask up.

But _man_ , could he relate to _that_ sentiment. "An' who're you, lil' lady?" Jazz asked, bending down slightly to look at the unknown girl.

Flinching away slightly, the girl moved closer to Wheeljack's leg. "I'm…Danny."

"Danielle," corrected Wheeljack.

"Yeah, but 'Jack calls me Danny, too."

Rachel pouted. "I don't have a nickname, 'cause my name is already really short."

"TC calls you 'human' sometimes," Jazz offered, grinning.

"That's not a nickname, that's just him being a jerk." From somewhere in the trees, they heard a low grumble, making Jazz laugh.

Wheeljack shifted, uneasy. "You have a companion?" he asked, his optics now focused on the tree line. The fog had dissipated enough to reveal parts of Thundercracker's massive body.

"Yeah, but yer probably not gonna like him off th' bat," Jazz said, bracing himself for the following explanation. He never thought he'd have to be telling a fellow Autobot not to shoot a 'Con on sight. Earth was Backwards Land, to be sure. "Y'see, Thundercracker ain't an Autobot, but he quit bein' a Decepticon."

"Quit?" Wheeljack repeated, optics whirled over to Jazz now. He was very tense now and Danny was picking up his stress, ducking further behind his leg.

"Yeahhh. It's a complicated mess, lemme tell ya. Apparently, Galvatron started to kill off his own men. TC lost his teammates and basically escaped with his own life. We met up about seven years ago." Jazz smirked down at Rachel. "Met this twerp three years ago, so it's just been th' three of us since. Haven't met another mech since then, actually."

Wheeljack tilted his head, intrigued. "How long have you been here? On earth?"

Jazz hesitated, tripping up only because of lingering feelings. "…Since th' beginnin'. I was with Optimus Prime's unit." He tried not to think about those mechs.

"You were the first group here," Wheeljack replied, surprise coloring his voice yet again. It was difficult to tell the mech's emotions with the blast mask up, but the earfins and his voice made him easy to read.

"Yeah," Jazz replied, grinning, pushing for _happy_ and _friendly_ with some difficulty.

Wheeljack stopped, staring at Jazz with mild hesitation again. "…So it's true then?" he asked, his voice quieter. "Prime is dead?" The earfins glowed lowly.

Cold gripped at Jazz's spark. "Yeah. Everyone I was workin' with is. I was th' only survivor."

"…I'm sorry," Wheeljack said at length, optics, voice, and earfins promoting a sense of pity Jazz really didn't want at the moment.

"Hah, s'not your problem, my man, so no worries," the Autobot lieutenant said, waving his hand casually. He grinned. "We were just passin' through to the river when we saw you two over here and I just had to stop by. It is a pleasant sight indeed to see another mech out here."

Wheeljack's optics smiled. "Indeed." Nostalgia and longing rang in his voice.

Feeling like it was apparently necessary, Rachel turned around and shouted to the trees, "TC! YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!"

The trees shook for a moment before the massive blue Decepticon jet emerged, glaring at the impish human. "You are obnoxious," he snarled, walking over slowly toward the group. He moved carefully, obviously mindful of the now-very-tense Wheeljack.

Danny looked utterly amazed, however. "You're bigger than 'Jack is!" she exclaimed, stunned.

Wheeljack stared at her, surprised, and Jazz laughed, mostly at Thundercracker's own surprise. The jet still had problems knowing how to interact with humans properly and didn't know what to say in response to the child's comment.

"Thundercracker here is a big guy, fer sure," Jazz said helpfully. "But we come in larger sizes, believe me."

Danny gaped at him, amazed. Rachel sighed. "They're not that cool," the blond said, feigning disinterest. Jazz had to thank her later for diffusing the intensity of the moment.

"I think they're amazing. Humans are so tiny," Danny replied, eyes huge.

Rachel frowned. "So? They're just as scattered as we are. And they can be just as stupid as people can." She motioned at Thundercracker. "He's a social nightmare."

Thundercracker sent the child a venomous glare, but did nothing. The two humans cracked up, giggling like little girls should have. Jazz grinned at them. Rachel rarely reacted that positively when around other humans. This Danny girl, despite her apparently lack of communication with her own kind, was warming up quickly to the other femme. It was good to see them both acting their proper ages.

Wheeljack was watching the scene play out as well, his earfins pulsing with unshielded delight. Jazz took the moment to get the 'bot's attention.

"So…what are yer plans?" Jazz asked, glancing over at the taller mech. He cocked his head to side, grinning.

The Autobot seemed startled. "Plans?"

"We're aiming to get to th' Chiemgau Alps b'fore winter," Jazz explained, motioning vaguely to the East. He hated hiding in mountains and it was never easy with Thundercracker being as big as he was, but it was safer and warmer than sitting out in the open. "Th' caves'll be nice cover from th' drones, plus it'll get us outta th' snow."

"That sounds like a logical endeavor," Wheeljack replied after a moment, nodding slightly. "Danny and I tend to retreat to the abandoned cities for the cooler months. It is not always the safest choice, but the subways function well enough."

Jazz crossed his arms against his chestplates, interested. "How long have you been traveling together?"

Danny brightened. "He found me when I was a baby," she said. "We've been together ever since."

"How old are you?" Rachel asked, interested. She suddenly looked competitive, adding confidently, "I'm thirteen."

"Danny is fourteen," Wheeljack supplied helpfully, his earfins flashing in a decidedly cheerful manner. "I found her when she was approximately seventeen months old."

Rachel looked impressed. "Woww, how'd you know that?"

"'Jack's a scientist, so its like a doctor," Danny replied, smiling with pride.

Interest perked, Jazz looked over at Wheeljack, who laughed and seemed somewhat modest under the praise. "I was a scientist once, on Cybertron, but my talents have been focused more on the medical end of things," Wheeljack explained. "It was more productive in a war zone."

Images of his own fallen medic made Jazz's spark clench, but he forced his smile to hold. "I hear ya. It probably helped ya a lot raising a human, huh?" He didn't dare imagine how hard it could have been to have found Rachel as an infant. The little brat was tough enough as a pre-teen.

"My only regret is that I could only provide her rudimentary human knowledge I managed to download from the Internet, while it was still available," Wheeljack replied, earfins flashing just slightly slower. "She has lost much of her culture."

"What culture?" Thundercracker suddenly broke into the conversation. He scowled. "There aren't communities anymore that could constitute as a cultural center."

Wheeljack faltered. "There are some things a species can only learn through imprinting," he replied, somewhat tense again while under the ex-Decepticon's optics. "You can't teach a mech how to be a Transformer and I doubt I could teach a human how to be fully human."

"She looks human," Rachel supplied helpfully.

"I'm pretty sure I'm human," Danny added dryly, giving her caretaker a strained look and smile. "Relax, 'Jack, you're a great teacher."

Wheeljack tilted his head, optics smiling. "I can only hope so."

Conversation easily popped up after that. Jazz found himself sharing a mature conversation with Wheeljack and Thundercracker, keeping only a loose optic on Rachel and Danny, who were now sitting further away, chatting up a storm. All five of them seemed to be making up for lost time. As much as Thundercracker wasn't a terrible conversation partner (he just liked listening more), Jazz felt like a stereotyped human femme, talking so much and feeling so giddy about doing so, but he didn't care. He had no idea how much he missed a conversation until now.

"What are you using as energy, I must ask?" Wheeljack asked, intrigued. They had been comparing survival notes. Jazz had to wonder how lucky Wheeljack had to have been, to avoid trouble for so long. The mech seemed to be onto something, avoiding those cities.

"Gasoline. Sometimes electricity." Jazz grinned. "Nothin' really takes th' place of a good ol' cube of high grade, huh?"

Earfins glowing with amusement, Wheeljack replied, "I don't have high grade, but surely you've been surviving on more than just that!" He sounded incredulous.

Thundercracker growled lowly, grim. "There's nothing else to use. Not anything that won't attract a lot of attention." He was right. Taking the time to try to convert it on their own was almost impossible and would take way too long. They'd be instant targets, making all that noise.

Something in Wheeljack's exclamation made Jazz curious, however. "Why? What have you been usin'?" he asked.

Wheeljack tilted his head again. "I created an energon converter when my unit first landed here," he began. "It uses organic material as fuel and can create a substance comparable to low-grade energon. Not truly filling, but far more beneficial than human-made energy."

For a moment, Jazz could only stared blankly at the Autobot scientist. In the back of his processors, he knew he should have been saying something or commenting on this revelation, but he was a little too shellshocked to come up with anything really intelligent. Beside him, Thundercracker froze and gave the Autobot scientist a stunned look.

"…Wheeljack, you're a fraggin' genius," Jazz finally sputtered, optics glowing brighter than they had before. _Primus above_ , was that an understatement! He had no idea how the mech would have had the spare-fragging-time to build such a thing, but he had—and that was amazing.

"I've been told this," Wheeljack laughed, amused by the two mechs' reactions.

Jazz gripped his helm. "Primus…I don't suppose y'got any t' spare now, huh?" he asked, grinning sheepishly. "I dunno 'bout you, TC, but I'm runnin' on fumes."

That earned him a quick glare from the tall Decepticon jet next to him. "Idiot," Thundercracker growled. "You didn't say anything before."

He understood his friend's anger; they were never supposed to run that low on fuel so far between towns, and if they were, they had to keep each other updated. It had just slipped his mind that day.

Shrugging, Jazz tried to play it off as nothing. "I coulda made it to another town." He knew well enough that his dismissal would be met with a negative reaction. He was not disappointed.

"You are an imbecile!" the ex-Con snapped, irritated to the point where he had to move away from the smaller 'bot, probably for Jazz's safety. Jazz could only laugh at his friend's restraint.

Wheeljack, thankfully, was also amused by the scene before him. "Ha…hold on a moment, friends. I have rations." He reached into his arm's subspace, retrieving two glowing cubes, before holding them out again. "See what you think."

Jazz's intakes squirmed awkwardly as he accepted a cube. Real energon. Huh. If he hadn't already known mechs couldn't dream, he'd have thought this whole afternoon—new mech, new human, a clean energy source—had been a delusion.

He lifted the cube almost hesitantly to his lips. It was lukewarm and had none of the luster he recalled the typical ration had, even while on a ship or at a base—but it was energon. He drank the whole thing in one gulp, the energon tingling and buzzing in the most pleasant of ways. He had been forcing gasoline into his systems for decades and barely noticed the unpleasant side effects. But this? This was heaven.

"Daaaamn, mech," he breathed, staring at the cube and then its inventor with awe-filled and appreciative optics, "you are a lifesaver. Really. That's the best thing I've had in my tanks in almost forty decades, yo."

Thundercracker finished the cube at a slower pace, but looked directly at Wheeljack. The two were almost equal height, with Thundercracker towering only a foot or two taller. "Thank you, Autobot," he said. Directly. To the point. Meaning it.

Jazz grinned.

"Don't mention it," Wheeljack said, equally polite. He was losing the edge he had earlier when speaking directly with the ex-Decepticon.

Jazz's grin expanded.

He had gotten an idea the moment he learned Wheeljack's name. It was probably a dangerous idea, but the benefits were almost balanced with the potential consequences. He just didn't know how to approach the strange mech.

"So. I don't wanna be too forward with this…" Jazz said, trailing off. He decided to bite the bullet and grinned up, unashamed, at the taller 'bot. "But have you ever thought about travelin' with another group?"

While Thundercracker flinched visibly, Wheeljack only paused for a moment, his earfins glowing lowly. "…You mean _your_ group?" he asked, amused and curious.

Jazz grinned, nodding. "Yeah. Rachel'll be thrilled t' have another human to talk to, and damned if th' two of us couldn't use that converter o' yours." He shrugged. "B'sides…safety in numbers, right?"

"…A logical assumption," Wheeljack eventually said, nodding slowly. "I…never thought I'd meet another Autobot. Or a friendly Decepticon." Wheeljack's tone suddenly became teasing, making Jazz chuckle and Thundercracker growl lowly. Apparently, the scientist wasn't afraid to play around; Jazz could respect that.

The question hung between them like a heavy curtain. Jazz tried to imagine what it'd be like to have two more members of their group tagging along. At least it was another Autobot, he rationalized. Thundercracker would be a little awkward, but larger numbers were a good thing, right?

"Larger parties attract the drones quicker," Thundercracker's deep voice broke into the contemplative silence.

Jazz glanced at his friend, considering. "True." He looked back at Rachel and Danny, who were now playing with the ball Danny and Wheeljack had just been playing with. The sound of their laughter sang like music in his audio receptors.

"The children need their own kind," Wheeljack said. He was also looking at the girls.

"There are always camps," the ex-Decepticon jet said, his voice flat.

Now it was Jazz's turn to glare at his long-time companion. "You would abandon them there? 'Cause you know they won't go willingly." They had discovered that with Rachel.

Thundercracker hesitated. Wheeljack stared at the ex-Con and then at Jazz. He sighed; a remarkably human gesture.

"I would not be opposed to traveling with your group," he said at length. "Danny needs another human presence. If anything, we as Transformers need to remain connected. We are just as likely prey as the humans are."

Wheeljack was right about that. Jazz glanced back at the humans, reveling with each laugh and musical bit of chatter they shared. He knew it was dangerous to make a larger group. It was dangerous enough to have traveled with the other two for so long.

But in the face of their current situation and likely future, Jazz thought he could handle the chances. He wasn't alone in that thought either.

"…We are in need of your energon converter," Thundercracker finally said, reluctant. He did not look happy, but when did he ever, Jazz mused.

"And I could always use some more positive company," Jazz joked, grinning unashamed. "Travelin' with these two pessimists can really drag a mech down, y'know?"

The resounding clang of Thundercracker's fist meeting his helm echoed nicely with Wheeljack's deep laughter.

From there, the party of five headed East, not noticing an unknown mech following them from quite a distance away.

 _Introductions: Part Three_ end.

 _Part Four_ to follow.


	4. Introductions: Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fallout**  
>  " **Introductions: Part 4"**  
>  by Nan00k
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. **  
> Warnings** : character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_2046 AD  
Northern Poland_

It was a miserable day in March. The ground was muddy and the humans rested as much as they possibly could to get out of the misty drizzle. Thundercracker couldn't blame them. Even with his advanced heating and better build, Earth was always frightfully chilly. They were farther north than he was used to going, too, thanks to a run-in with some drones. Jazz insisted they go around the more developed areas of the country and stick to the extreme back roads. It was safer, but always wetter and colder.

Thundercracker never thought he be where he was that day, following an Autobot's suggestion, or willingly holding human supplies in his subspace, or even adding his own two-cents to a conversation between Autobots and humans alike. A thousand years ago, he was still part of his Trine and fighting a simple war, where there were only two sides: Autobot or Decepticon. Yesterday, he had agreed to be a living jungle gym for overly energetic human younglings—and _let_ the Autobots laugh at his predicament.

The strangest and probably most frightening aspect of all this was that he didn't really _care_.

Sure, it bothered him to an extent, recharging next to mechs that had, only just decades before, been his sworn enemies. He should have been revolted by the idea of trusting them, using their resources, and sharing his own. He never really cared for aliens, in a negative or positive way, but he still should have been clinging to the Decepticon belief of squashing the nasty insects whenever they got too close.

Clutching a miserable human to his chestplates and trying to keep the rain off of their already soaked form was not particularly Decepticon-like. Thundercracker tried to care more, but was distracted when Rachel sneezed…again.

"I'm cold!" she wailed, trying to sink further into the poncho she had saved from their last visit to a city. They were still trying Wheeljack's methods of staying away from major cities. That meant fewer supplies, unfortunately, and less prepared humans.

The first thing he should have done (besides dropping the child) should have been to tell her to quit complaining. He shouldn't have grumbled lowly in sympathy and try to cover her more with his cupped hands. He shouldn't have cared about her well-being.

But the little scrapling had managed to worm her way into his spark, if only because time had moved against him. Every morning was like an entire solar cycle. Even when the war was still happening, Thundercracker never had to be this vigilant every waking moment. The Transformers slept in shifts (the humans had to have more sleep than they did) and all five of them followed the strictest rules on safety. Thundercracker would have thought a world of constantly running and hiding would make him harden his spark and forsake everyone else.

He never expected he would care for another person—alien or not—ever again. Skywarp, his bonded, was dead. He had no one else before. He didn't know what to call their makeshift team of survivors. Friends? He didn't dare consider that an option, at least consciously. It was still too soon.

"We gotta stop before they start gettin' sick," Jazz finally said. They had made little progress and the humans having to stop all the time was irritating.

But Thundercracker, as he always did lately, only nodded and started to look for somewhere to let the humans dry off and get warm. The rain was relenting, but it was still miserable and probably not the best environment for the organics. Their internal systems were so inefficient, Thundercracker lamented. Oh, well.

The plan was to pick a decently covered area of the woods they were walking through and let the humans take cover inside the transformed Jazz or Wheeljack. Thundercracker was grateful for the scientist's invention; the mid-grade energon wasn't enough to give them back all of their strength, but it was certainly better than trying to run on raw human fuel. Still, heat was limited because of how much energy it took the mechs to produce it for the humans inside the vehicles, but anything was better than being outside on the ground.

Thundercracker gently let Rachel back onto the ground and was about to retrieve her supplies from his subspace compartment when suddenly, something flashed on his radar. The extra energy he received from Wheeljack's energon converter gave him back some of his extra functions, including limited radar capabilities. Jazz and Wheeljack also tensed up, obviously noticing the suddenly indication on their own HUDs.

Drones. Not many. But there was another signal, mixed into the fray. A strangely familiar one, not because he knew who it was, but because it wasn't a drone and wasn't human.

Another Cybertronian.

Without warning, a roar filled the air, the roar of an engine. Thundercracker stood tensed as he saw a smoldering sports car come tearing out onto the clearing just beyond the trees he and the others were standing near. From the gaps between bare-branched trees, he could see several drones on the tail of the fleeing vehicle. He shouldn't have been so surprised when the car abruptly transformed with some difficulty and a moderately tall mech whipped around to attack his attackers. Drones shrieked and a fight broke out as they slammed into the unfortunate mech.

Thundercracker was immediately grateful that the drones had not noticed them. But he knew that wouldn't last. Even more than that, his Autobot companions would not stand by so easily, not when such a one-sided fight was being performed before them.

Rachel looked out at the fight, stunned. "Holy _slag_ —is that a mech?" she cried. Danny all but leapt onto Wheeljack's leg, wide eyed.

Her exclamation seemed to snap everyone out of their speechless stares. "Stay here!" Jazz snapped quickly, before charging forward. "TC! With me!"

Thundercracker marveled at his own inability to question the command or resist it. Instead, he obeyed and ran after the smaller mech, catching up quickly with his longer gait. It didn't take long for either of them to break through the remaining foliage and into the clearing.

There were five drones left and they were making quick work of the already-injured mech. Thundercracker raised his arm canons and fired on the miniature swarm, throwing the one clawing at the downed-mech's spark chamber off. Jazz followed suite and both were soon at the center of the drones' attentions.

Oh, _yes_ , the energon converter was a miracle in a living extension of Pit. Thundercracker had more strength than he remembered having before. He snatched a drone out of the air as it moved to attack Jazz from behind and tore its function core right out of its squid-like body. It felt good to fight. It felt natural, moreso than playing nice with organics.

The fight was over quickly, much faster than he was used to. Chucking another dead drone away from him, Thundercracker saw he had received no real damage and looked to Jazz, who was also alright. That left the smoking and incapacitated mech on the muddy ground.

The mech was a mess. He had probably been chased by the drones for quite some time. Body hissing and chest heaving, the mech was a pathetic specimin of Cybertronian design.

But what Thundercracker was looking for now was not injuries. His optics rovved to the center of the mech's chest for a tell-tale sign, one that would dictate their next moves.

He felt strangely disappointed when he saw a purple face gleaming up past the grime and soot on the new mech's chestplates.

Jazz, for all of his observant nature, had looked at the injuries first. He began to walk past Thundercracker shortly after checking to see if the ex-Decepticon jet was alright as well. "Where are you going?" Thundercracker asked, grabbing Jazz by the shoulder. The Autobot didn't even flinch under his massive hands.

"T' talk t' th' guy," Jazz explained, nodding his head back at the new mech. "We gotta get 'im some energon at least. He's dead if we don't help."

 _Such an Autobot, even in this horrible world._ "It is a Decepticon," Thundercracker said lowly, optics pinned to the struggling mech in question.

Jazz hesitated. "…Uh, slag," he said, as if he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one, but _probably_ a bad one.

Rising slowly, Thundercracker moved past Jazz. "Stay here," he said.

"Are you sure?" Jazz asked, tense. He took a step forward to follow, but Thundercracker held out his hand, stopping the mech.

"He would react even more violently if you or the scientist approached," he explained, watching the red-and-black Decepticon curl on his side finally, his chest plates cycling air heavily. "If he attacks, I'll just kill him."

Jazz frowned, unconvinced. "If you're sure, big guy…"

Thundercracker was happy Jazz decided to listen and stay back. With increased caution, Thundercracker walked over to the Decepticon on the ground. The mech was a mess, but alive. With proper medical attention, he'd probably be fine. But before he let the sympathetic Autobot scientist get too close, Thundercracker wanted questions answered.

As he approached, the Decepticon looked up warily. There was a fight-or-flight glaze over his optics as he measured Thundercracker up. He didn't try to move, though. Thundercracker doubted he could do much in that state, anyway.

Stopping just a few feet away, Thundercracker loomed over the new mech. "Decepticon," he began, neutral but firmly, "state your designation."

The mech stared at him. "…Seeker, huh?" The accent was strange. Human, for sure. The Decepticon grinned, the expression lopsided. "I thought you all got massacred vhen Starscream got slagged."

Thundercracker glared, tightening his fists at his sides. "I was more fortunate than my brethren," he replied coldly. " _State your designation_."

Whether he was merely acknowledging his compromised state, or was just too tired to continue testing Thundercracker's patience, the mech relented from his grinning. "Wildrider," he said, without the accent, and he laid back down with a shuddering moan.

He had heard that name before, on a roster list. Thundercracker stared down at the broken mech with newfound shock. "…Of the Gestalt Team Menasor?" he asked.

He had heard of Wildrider because he had heard of how the Menasor team had been destroyed. How was this mech still alive?

The reaction he got surprised him more. "Oooh, am I famous? Never knew I vas famous," Wildrider cackled, his laugh distorted by pained static and sheer instability. His optics were off. "So, who are you, Seeker?"

"I am Thundercracker," the jet replied tensely.

The mech's optics rovved to the side, obviously seeing Jazz and probably the others, who were finally coming out from the trees. "…Who else is out there?" he asked, curious, but a little defensive.

Thundercracker had certainly never expected to be in a situation similar to what Jazz had been in a year ago with Wheeljack. "A group of survivors, like yourself," he said carefully. He tilted his head, daring a confrontation. "There are humans and there are Autobots."

The wandering optics of Wildrider stopped and then looked up at Thundercracker in unshielded surprise. Disgust. Confusion.

"…slaggin' serious?" the Decepticon mumbled, vocalizer fritzing suddenly.

Thundercracker did not feel like being a diplomat. "The war is over," he replied tersely. "We are survivors, not soldiers. My Autobot teammates are offering to give you sanctuary for as long as you need, and energon, out of pity. It's your choice to take them up on the offer."

That made Wildrider grin again. The look made the Decepticon look truly mad. "They trust half-dead Decepticon?" he asked, accent thick.

"There are more of them and myself than there is of you, groundling," Thundercracker snarled. This would be Wildrider's only warning, at least from him "I would not hesitate in ripping your spark chamber right out of your chest if you betrayed that kindness."

Because that wasn't a Decepticon thing to do, to care, to protect, to want to do any of that. Because Thundercracker wasn't a Decepticon anymore—it just wasn't worth it, in the end.

…He really should have been more frightened by that sentiment.

Wildrider stared up at him. The grinning faded, but there was a new twitchiness to his limbs. Thundercracker doubted the mech was completely sane. "…This vorld should have made you harder, but it made you softer, Seeker," the sports car said suddenly. His optics suddenly looked glazed again. "Strange planet."

Thundercracker moved back, limbs less tense now. "Indeed."

Settling back, Wildrider looked at him and then past him, at the others. Thundercracker let him think and did his best not to do the same. Letting go of old habits and old feelings was difficult. Letting go of memories—of Skywarp—were worse. He knew what it was like to be in Wildrider's position, to have the option to face deactivation or to trust one of his previous enemies. It was not an easy choice.

But in the end, there was only one real choice.

Wildrider looked back up at him, optics sharp. "…you have energon, yes?"

It took some convincing to get Wheeljack and the humans out nearer to the new Decepticon. While leery of helping a potential enemy, Wheeljack was an Autobot at spark, after all.

Jazz easily took the reigns as official spokesperson of the group, letting Thundercracker retreat gratefully from the center of attention. "I see communications went down alright," the Autobot began confidently. He tilted his head at the now-sitting-up Wildrider. "Name's Jazz. Who're you?"

"Wildrider." The smaller Decepticon suddenly smirked, glancing over at Wheeljack with the sly smile of a lounging wild Earth cat. "Vhy so tense, Autobot?" he said, barking out a laugh. "You are not dying on ground like I am."

Wheeljack hesitated, but didn't say anything. Jazz took over again, artfully steering the Decepticon's gaze away from the nervous scientist. "Can we spare 'im some energon, 'Jack?" he asked, with a neutral pointedness. "He won't last long without it."

"A little," Wheeljack replied after thinking it over carefully. He inclined his head, tense. "I do hope you are not aiming to try anything, Decepticon." He wasn't threatening; Thundercracker doubted there was a threatening code in the mech's processor.

Wildrider didn't think much of the scientist's words either, apparently. "Ha!" the mech laughed, looking away. He sounded strangely…distant. Less fidgety, too. "Vhat Decepticon?" he asked, sitting back. He sounded tired. "I am Wildrider. Decepticons are dead."

Thundercracker stared at the mech and tried not to focus on the sudden cold feeling that swept into his chest. Was it regret? Grief? Guilt? He didn't care, whatever it was. He couldn't afford to care, not now.

Staring down at Wildrider, Wheeljack also seemed quieted by the ex-Decepticon's wording. Thundercracker could imagine the 'bot feeling a similar sensation like he was feeling now. Forsaking previous allegiances for survival—they all had done it, at this point. Thundercracker was alive and remarkably content with where he was. That didn't always make him feel better, however. Wheeljack was probably the same.

"…Fair enough," the Autobot finally said, softly.

When Wheeljack handed the mid-grade to Wildrider, the ex-Decepticon accepted it wordlessly. Thundercracker watched carefully. Wildrider drank the energon without a pause, clearly either trusting the Autobot to be as forgiving as they always seemed, or was just too tired to care about being poisoned. It would take the mech a long time to get to fully functioning condition. If he was up on his feet by tomorrow, they'd be lucky. Thundercracker knew the sentimentality the humans and Autobots shared wouldn't allow for leaving the 'Con alone, at least until he was repaired.

Another survivor. Thundercracker wondered if that was a good idea. Things had worked out pretty okay with traveling with Wheeljack and Danny as additional guests. Still, they weren't some fraggin' orphanage. More people attracted more attention. Then again…the mech was a Decepticon. They could always used more able-bodied warriors…or at least someone they could use as a distraction.

Dusk was falling on them and Jazz decided to set up camp there. Wildrider couldn't move far anyway and needed help to get closer to the forest for added protection. Walking over to where Jazz was now standing with the humans, Thundercracker decided to ask his companion what they were going to do next. As long as there wasn't a real threat from the new mech, he personally couldn't care what happened to him.

The humans were a bit more shook up over the new arrival than Thundercracker was. "He has an accent," Danny murmured thoughtfully. She sounded intrigued.

"Russian," Rachel supplied. She looked on edge still and Thundercracker couldn't blame her.

"He's a Decepticon. So. He's like TC," Danny continued, looking at Jazz for confirmation.

Jazz hesitated. "Er, sorta," the Autobot said, chuckling. He leered at Thundercracker once the taller mech came to a stop next to him. "They're from the same team, but I don't think this new guy has the same lovely personality as our dear TC does."

"Shut it," Thundercracker snapped. Jazz only laughed.

Danny was still curious. "What do you mean?" the fifteen-year-old asked, a little worried now. "He's not dangerous, is he?"

"He won't be, as long as you guys keep away from him and don't piss him off, I imagine," Jazz replied honestly. He shrugged. "I have no idea how long th' mech would want t' stay with us, but I don't want to strand a wounded mech, ya know?"

Thundercracker wanted to sigh at the predictability of the Autobot psyche. He wondered how they had ever lasted as long as they did. Next to his leg, Rachel took the initiative to approach the next issue.

"What now, guys?" she asked, frowning up at Jazz and Thundercracker, but glancing nervously toward Wildrider, who was resting quietly by the tree Thundercracker had helped him get to.

Jazz looked thoughtfully serious. "Well…I guess we lay some ground rules down fer the newbie."

Thundercracker nodded and let the smaller mech walk by him toward the injured Wildrider. As much as Jazz's ridiculousness riled him to the point of lashing out at the Autobot…Thundercracker had a respect for the mech. Jazz was a good leader and actually cared for his "subordinates," especially in their rag-tag team of survivors here. He had the intelligence Thundercracker never knew he was missing in a companion. The snark, however, he could live without…

Wildrider stirred as soon as Jazz started walking toward him, Thundercracker, Rachel in tow, the latter hanging back a little further than was necessary. Thundercracker wasn't expecting a problem from the downed mech; Wildrider just gazed up at the mixed crowd, his expression strangely blank.

"'Ey, mech, listen up," Jazz began, stopping just a few feet from Wildrider. The Decepticon said nothing, clearly waiting for the other mech to continue. "We're all from different walks o' life, and I've learned to trust ex-Decepticons in my own experience—," the side glance didn't escape Thundercracker's optics, "—but we're all a little different in this group.

"We're a mix of mechs an' humans, and while I trust you ain't stupid enough t' try t' hurt one of us, th' humans ain't us." Jazz was a master of manipulation, but Thundercracker had known the Autobot long enough to recognize the just barely-there change in body posture and tone—from casual conversation to subtle threat. "They're softer, smaller an' a whole lot more breakable than Cybertronians are. Until we can trust you not t' hurt them, I don't even want you near them. An' if we ever trust ya that much t' get close t' them, an' if you hurt them, we'll kill you."

Wildrider, who had listened carefully and only fidgeted a little (something Thundercracker suspected was remarkable for the unhinged mech), stared at Jazz with a thoughtful look. "So…play nice vith squishies, or get slagged?" he repeated, summing up the conversation in his own wording.

Thundercracker growled lowly. "Touch them and you will wish we left you for the drones," he said bluntly.

The glint returned to Wildrider's optics instantaneously. "Gotcha, boss, gotcha," he said, grinning crookedly. "I can play nice. I can."

"Good," Jazz said, smiling in a strained way. He turned, nodding his head slightly. "Give a yell if ya need help, but don't go anywhere. We'll shoot ya if we think yer up t' no good."

Wildrider only sat back further, unimpressed by the Autobot's threats. Thundercracker watched as Jazz walked back toward Wheeljack and Danny, and began to set up camp. The jet knew the Autobot would be keeping a trained optic on Wildrider all night long; most likely, all three mechs would be doing that.

Motion attracted Thundercracker to look down and see that Rachel was braving to step closer and face the injured mech. She had her hands on her hips and wore a look Jazz had dubbed her "serious business" expression. She was sizing Wildrider up. Thundercracker hid his smile, amused at the fourteen-year-old's bravado.

Wildrider, obviously, knew little of how to deal with younglings and even less when it came to making friends. "Hi, squishy," he said, grinning maliciously. He waggled his hooked hands.

Well, that was it. Rachel reared up like a panicked feline. "JAZZ!" she screamed, rushing off to find the Autobot.

The cackling Wildrider was still laughing even after Thundercracker slapped him on the back of the helm with a warning growl.

This would be a _long_ few weeks.

None of them noticed the following mech who was still carefully watching from a distance.

 **00000**

 _2046 AD  
Southern Poland_

Not everyone was a good person. His grandparents had told him this over and over, whenever they approached another refugee camp or shelter of some sort. People like Goddard were rare, where they actually meant it when they said they wanted to help. There were good people out there, his grandmother said firmly, but this was a rough world now. People could not afford to be nice, not to strangers.

All of their warnings essentially boiled down to: suspect before trust. Barnaby didn't like to expect the worst out of anything—person or situation. But he heeded his grandparents' advice, even several years after they passed on, whenever he approached a new camp with Goddard. He didn't trust anyone.

That's why he wasn't too surprised when, as they made their way through a murky forest in Poland and stumbled across a small caravan of humans, Goddard told him to run. Barns barely had time to look at the new humans—who were all much dirtier than he or Goddard was. They had weapons and didn't seem to speak English or French.

Barns kept running, even after he heard the other humans jump up and gather their arms. Cars were rare, but he thought he heard one start up. It was a terrifying sound.

He thought they were thieves, or perhaps extremists. He had heard various ghost stories while visiting other camps. Curiosity paled however, to Barns' desire to survive. He decided to ask Goddard later, after they got out of this in one piece.

The mist aided them in their escape. The sounds of the men filled the generally quiet woods and Barns' heart pounded horribly in his chest as he pushed himself to his physical limit. He had no idea how long they had been running before Goddard skidded to the side, down a ravine and hissed at him to do the same. Barns complied and fell into the muddy hole. His legs wobbled beneath him and he dared to catch his breath, leaning against the dirt wall, trembling.

After a minute, he could breathe again.

"What do they want?" Barns whispered hoarsely.

Goddard, breathing heavily, glared past the log, scanning the forest with fierce eyes. "Goddamn, motha-humping cannibals," he growled. Their breath made fog in the cold air and, suddenly, Barns was freezing.

He had heard stories before about wild—feral—humans. Food was scarce and everyone had to survive on scraps, even in camps. His grandparents told him how some humans didn't like that. Wild game—the few that survived in this vegetative wasteland—couldn't keep up with their demands. They ate anything—including people.

Feeling sick, Barns sank back into the log, praying and hoping they would be able to hide there. He couldn't fathom how a man could be driven to kill another, let alone eat them.

For some reason, the drones seemed so much more civil that that. Almost.

They stayed in the ravine for a long time. Barns was still shaking and he clasped his gloved hands together to try to quiet the tremors. Goddard was tenser than he had ever seen the elder man get. Briefly, Barns was glad his grandparents were no longer with them; they would not have been able to move that fast.

"Alright…" Goddard began quietly. "I think—" Suddenly, Goddard hissed, jumping backwards. " _SHIT_! MOVE, BARNABY!"

Barns didn't even hesitate to follow the order. He clawed his way out of the back of the ravine and took off running in the opposite direction of where they had just run from. His pack fell up and down hard on his back and he was tempted to just chuck it off; it wasn't worth his life.

But then something fell from his coat pocket. He dared a glance back—seeing a line of five or six men coming dangerously close—and saw something gleam up from the dark forest floor. Without thinking, he was turned around and rushing back toward it, his pack flying off his back as he twisted around.

"BARNS! DON'T STOP!" Goddard yelled, whipping around when the boy flew by him, aiming for the fallen treasure.

Barns didn't listen that time. All he cared about was grabbing the compass. He didn't need anything else. It was worthless and didn't work—but it was his grandfather's compass. His foot caught in a tree root and he stumbled forward, landing hard on the muddy ground. Blood rushed to his head and, for a moment, he was helpless. He could hear the humans approaching and he was frozen with fear. His hands found the compass and he held onto it tightly. Limbs locked, he prepared for the worst.

And then, God fell from the sky.

 **00000**

It wasn't supposed to get this complicated.

He had been following two Autobots, one Decepticon, and two humans for a year.

And then another Decepticon arrived, making it six to follow in total.

He had not been expecting to run into another two humans on the same path as following the mechs and human team, but there was little he could do about it. Vortex had every inclination to ignore the new humans, who just barely escaped noticing him on the trail of the others, but something odd happened.

More humans appeared. He would have thought the two groups would have collided as peacefully as any other encountered shared between members of the same species.

He had not been expecting the larger group of humans to suddenly attack the two newcomers. It was an interesting and slightly amusing sight, watching the two flee. Curiosity natural to Vortex urged him to find out more. The concentrated Onslaught insisted he just move on and follow the Autobot-Decepticon-human group, like he had been before.

But another thought wormed its way into his processor, making Vortex hesitate again. He had never been this close to humans before, even if they were the humans he had been used to trailing behind. He would probably never get the chance to get even closer. He had the chance now.

But even more than that…

Vortex didn't want to consider it, because it wasn't normal. It wasn't natural. He was a Decepticon still, a Combaticon. He was created to cause devastation. Not…

Curious Vortex merged with Thoughtful Onslaught. Moving swiftly, Vortex was upon the two groups within seconds. Neither group was prepared for him to step forward, between them, and loom overhead. They were so tiny; he must have seemed monstrous.

Good.

The larger group seemed to have weapons, but none of them fired. Especially not when Vortex activated his own offensive protocols, bringing out a riffle and shoulder canons. The humans faltered. Took steps back. And then ran. Vortex felt a chill of delight run through him when he heard their screams of terror. It made him think of good times. Back when the world made sense and the world wasn't _this_ world.

After a long moment, all he could hear was the labored breathing of the remaining two humans. Vortex turned slowly and faced the organics. The youngest—a male youngling apparently—stared up at him in astonishment. He probably had never seen a mech before, not in this barren landscape. Vortex turned further and saw the still form of the other human. This one was a full-grown man. He was staring at Vortex with wide eyes.

Vortex didn't miss how those beady little optics roved immediately to his chest plates. He didn't make a move though; he was curious as to what the human would do next.

To his surprise, the human broke eye contact and rushed forward toward the downed youngling. After some frantic movement, the two stood and seemed to be inspecting each other for injuries. Vortex stood back, watching curiously. The man began to speak, his voice erratic with those alien tones. He watched as the boy picked up his possessions, pocketing a shiny circular device. Both looked up at him, chatting excitedly.

The man kept talking and Vortex abruptly realized he was the one being spoken to. The language was the same one his Autobot-Decepticon-human group spoke, but he knew only bits and pieces of it from second hand estimation, whenever he dared to get close enough to hear it.

The man pointed at himself, saying something strange, and then pointed at the smaller man, saying something else. Both looked at Vortex expectantly.

He didn't get it until the boy pointed at Vortex and nodded enthusiastically. Vortex stared back and realized that they wanted a name. Part of him was tempted to just ignore them and keep walking to catch up to the group he was previously tracking.

But perhaps it didn't hurt to try to communicate.

He stated his designation. The boy withdrew, surprised. Vortex realized that Cybertronian probably sounded intensely different than the guttural language the humans were used to. He exchanged a quick look with his companion, but he didn't understand either.

Vortex considered the limited vocabulary he had accumulated from observing the other group. His lexicon was weak and under-developed. He tried to think of words that even related to his designation. It was difficult. The language the humans spoke was not easy to imitate without proper coding already in place.

" _Great…wind_ ," he finally gnashed out. The words were heavy and awkward and not…right.

The boy seemed surprised again, but smiled brightly. " _Great Wind_ ," he repeated, pointing at Vortex.

That wasn't right. Vortex decided to go with human gestures and shook his head. This wasn't going to work.

The humans looked confused, but the boy was determined. He kept saying things, more alien words that didn't compute. Vortex was beginning to become bored. He finally moved away, shaking his head. The boy seemed frustrated, but his companion said something quiet to him and he relented. Vortex watched and listened as they set about reorganizing their possessions.

His processors turned to his own concerns again. He hadn't lost too much time dawdling there, but he should get himself together as well. He turned to leave when he heard the boy speaking again, higher pitched and more excited. Glancing down, Vortex saw the boy was trying to communicate with him again. He was pointing at himself and then at the path, chatting away as if Vortex did know what he was saying.

The motions were unmistakable, however. The boy was asking Vortex if he would walk with them, down the path. Vortex stared blankly at the child, feigning confusion.

What a concept. Asking a Decepticon to travel with them? Suicide. Sure, he didn't have a reason to kill them—yet. But he did just save their lives. It would be rather pointless to squash them immediately afterward. They didn't know that though. He had seen the man's expression; he knew what Vortex was. He didn't seem too concerned now though, but he was quietly pressuring the boy to stop inviting Vortex.

It didn't take long for the boy to give into his companion's request, and with one last mournful expression, the boy followed the older man away from Vortex and down the path. They began to walk anyway, leaving it up to him to follow or not. Vortex watched them, considering and then dismissing the idea. He had a mission already—

And then, he realized where they were headed. The same way he had been planning to go—the same path the other group was following.

Well, that settled that.

Giving them several moments to walk ahead, Vortex began to move quietly behind the duo, letting himself get lost in their alien chatter.

 **00000**

 _2046 AD  
Southern Poland_

Thundercracker resisted the urge to just drop his face into his open hand, as the humans seemed fond of doing when faced with some kind of ridiculous situation. He had never expected to have to convince a Decepticon to willingly trust and travel with a group of both Autobots and humans.

He certainly had never expected to have to convince _another_ Decepticon less than a year later to do the same. Luckily, there was far less convincing to do at that point.

Overall, it had been six months since Wildrider joined their traveling party. Wheeljack had done a decent amount of repair on the ex-Decepticon car, with much more patience and grace than Thundercracker had expected from the nervous scientist. Wildrider never made it easier, either. He lived up to his name quite well and was very unmanageable. He would push the mechs' patience by straying just almost-too-close to the unaware humans, or would tease them to the point one of the mechs had to get involved, or would take a posture of attack only to fall back cackling when the Autobots or Thundercracker took him seriously.

He was a loose canon in a fight, too, but Thundercracker's prediction of him being a tough warrior came true. The extra manpower made surviving so much easier when they ran afoul some sort of drone swarm or other danger…even if said-manpower was running on one processor short of a fully functioning mech.

One of their most pressing issues with the 'Con was what to do with him. He had recovered to a satisfactory condition that would have had Thundercracker kick the mech out of the group had he been in sole control. But unfortunately, he would always be outvoted by the sappy Autobot and human majority. Rachel and Danny were uncomfortable about "abandoning" Wildrider to the wilderness, and after all the work Wheeljack put into the ex-Decepticon, the scientist wasn't too keen on leaving him to his own devices either. Jazz, despite being a savvy warrior and commander, also had ethical doubts about kicking Wildrider out, much to Thundercracker's ire.

So, they didn't do anything. They just carried on without bringing the subject up and Wildrider didn't seem to care too much either. He continued to walk, recharge and travel with them, as if he had been aiming to do so since the beginning.

Today, Thundercracker mused, Wildrider had indeed earned his keep. It had been the crazy mech who had noticed the commotion that was going on a few miles behind them and had alerted the others, in his as-always absurd way.

"Hey, boss," Wildrider began, barely catching Thundercracker's attention.

They had begun to turn South again. None of them had ventured that far East before and, from their initial few weeks there, it didn't seem anymore crowded by drones than the West had been. The weather improved gradually as the seasons progressed, but now they were headed back into the winter months. It was brisk for the humans, but Wheeljack, after decades of caring for Danny, knew how to prepare the younglings well.

That morning, Wildrider had been content with asking inane questions toward the humans and laughing over their need for extra clothing. To Jazz and Thundercracker's mutual surprise, Rachel was remarkably patient with the deranged 'Con and would speak civilly with him. Danny was always believing the best in people and never hesitated to respond to Wildrider, or to accept his bizarre quirks (the mech just couldn't stop _twitching_.)

The lull of conversation should have alerted Thundercracker right away that something was not right. With the humans in front, he knew Wildrider wasn't trying to intimidate them again. Still, letting the suddenly quiet ex-Decepticon somehow slip by him and move to the back of the group was a bad, potentially dangerous move. No, it was only when Wildrider finally spoke up after nearly twenty minutes of silence that Thundercracker realized his mistake.

"What?" Thundercracker snapped, turning around immediately. Wildrider was stopped, a few yards behind the group, with his attention solely on the path they had come from. It was like watching a bird, the way the 'Con moved his head and body.

"I think ve have company," Wildrider sang. He glanced back at Thundercracker with a sly look. "And not drones."

Thundercracker frowned and turned on his radar. He had been trying to reserve energy for the upcoming part of their journey, where they would be crossing a large river. He was the only mech there with flight and they didn't trust bridges to be standing (or to be capable of supporting the Transformers' weight).

To his mild horror, Wildrider was right. There was a large signal appearing on his radar. He whipped around and glared at Jazz, who was also looking a bit shaken, probably only turning his radar on after Wilrider's comment as well.

"You said you were watching the radar!" Thundercracker complained.

Jazz bristled. "I thought 'Jack was!" he said.

"What? I thought you were!" Wheeljack shot back, alarmed.

"Lucky I am here, then, hmm?" Wildrider added impishly. He only laughed when the other three mechs glared at him.

The humans were intrigued, however. "There's another mech nearby?" Danny asked, looking around. "Where?"

"We don't know if it's a friendly or not, so don't get too excited, kiddo," Jazz replied, chuckling. He pointed down toward the edge of the path they were traveling. "I'm getting a close reading. Whoever it is, they're walking on th' lower path."

They were walking on a road that seemed to separate into higher and lower platforms. They had chosen the higher one, and from there, they could see down to the lower path.

The whole group rushed over to the ledge and looked down for any sign of movement. The radar was telling Thundercracker the mech was very close. They waited silently, but anxious. It seemed like an hour had gone by.

But then, suddenly, there was movement down the path. Something—no, two things, small appeared. But the large form behind them caught Thundercracker's attention immediately. A large mech, bigger than Jazz, but not as big as himself or Wheeljack, was walking. He was limping and seemed roughed up. Thundercracker's optics zoomed in as the mech approached.

Almost instinctively, they sought out a sign of alliance. He was disappointed.

"It is a Decepticon," he said. _Oh, Primus, not again._

"Again?" Rachel exclaimed, more surprised than scared. Thundercracker didn't think that was a very good reaction.

Jazz was up against the trees, leaning out as far as he could without falling forward down the incline. "…Wait," the mech said, suddenly alarmed. "Holy…M'ther o' Primus." He looked utterly floored. "He's…with two humans."

"What?" Thundercracker hissed, whipping around to look where his friend was gaping through the tree line in astonishment. To his amazement, Jazz was right. There were two humans down there on the path, walking ahead of the Decepticon.

"He's definitely walking with those two humans!" the Autobot exclaimed.

Wildrider burst into static-y crackles, making the humans jump. "That's it! This is epidemic!" he barked, grinning madly at Thundercracker. "This planet changes us too much, hmm? Make Autobots vicious, Decepticons soft—vhat a planet!"

Thundercracker wanted to snap at him, to tell him to shut up, but there was no reason to bother. He was almost right, in his rambling. Earth changed them all, for better or for worse.

There was no time for philosophical quandaries, he mused. He looked back down the hill and watched the sight play out. The gray Decepticon was a flier, but different than himself, with propellers rather than wings. He was in a shabby state, but that made his pace match that of the two humans who were traveling far enough away from him for their own safety, but close enough that it was obvious the three were walking together. A conversation was being held, but the Decepticon was just listening to the humans talk.

"I have _got_ t' hear how _this_ match happened," Jazz whistled.

"You could have asked miles back," Wildrider suddenly said.

Eyes and optics immediately went to Wildrider, who only barked out another laugh. "You did not see following mech?" he asked, leering. "Maybe not humans, but mech, yes, he followed for long time."

"Following us?" repeated Danny, astonished. " _Why_?"

Wildrider shrugged. "Maybe like scavenger."

"You noticed and didn't say anything?" Thundercracker demanded, suddenly angry.

"You never asked!" Wildrider shot back, cracking up. He nimbly dodged a swipe from the larger ex-Decepticon.

Jazz grabbed Thundercracker's arm before the jet could swing again. " 'ey! Everybody calm down," he said, optics narrowed. He pushed between Wildrider and Thundercracker, effectively taking command. "If this new guy is traveling with humans, he's either injured, gone neutral, or is just desperate. We won't find out th' truth unless we get down there and ask."

"Me and Danny could go!" Rachel suddenly piped up. She looked excited for the potential mission. "The humans would probably accept us better than four of you guys, and if this mech is used to humans, he won't be upset either."

"Absolutely not," Wheeljack said, sounding alarmed. He looked to Jazz plaintively. "We have no idea what kind of situation that group is in. What if they're hostages?"

"Mighty long leash he's lettin' them on," Jazz replied, glancing down at the two humans, who were clearly taking the lead. The new Decepticon hung back considerably, and would often take to staring at anything but the humans.

Rachel was adamant. "And if the situation is bad, we just run back here and blow him the fuck up," she said in a blasé way. "We'd lure them back to you guys."

Wheeljack frowned. "That's an inappropriate way to say that," he began, but Danny cut him off.

"Come on, 'Jack!" she exclaimed, gaining her guardian's full attention. Danny was the shortest member of their entourage (even smaller than the younger Rachel), but she was attempting to take on the same bold attitude Rachel strutted around. "We know how dangerous it could be, but when do Rachel or I ever help you guys? You mechs pull way more weight around here than we do!"

"That's not true," Wheeljack said, earfins flashing brightly. "Without you and Rachel helping to gather organic material for the energon converter, who knows—?"

"Seriously, Wheeljack! We're all fighting for our lives out there," Danny began, eyes shining, "and we're in just as much danger as you guys are all the time. For once, though, can't _we_ lead the charge?"

"Yeah!" Rachel added, nodding enthusiastically.

Thundercracker watched the humans, intrigued. Both were nearing what the humans considered to be adult maturity. Had the world been the way it was before, and he had actually known them like he did now, he never would have suggested that they participate in warfare. Younglings didn't belong in such a harsh environment.

But they were in a war, all of them. A war for survival. Everyday—and it didn't matter what their ages were. They had to learn to fight and how to take charge of their own safety, as well as others. Now was as good a time as any.

"Let them," he said, surprising the two girls. Wheeljack looked stricken.

Jazz wasn't any better an ally for the scientist. "They have a good point, 'Jack," he said, nodding. "We're all fighters, even you. Th' girls would do best as th' instigators this time, rather than one of us. We'll be close behind for backup, but they're not sparklings anymore."

Danny and Rachel beamed, clearly pleased by his statement. Only Wheeljack looked uncertain still. An awkward silence fell between their group and Thundercracker wasn't sure what their next move would be.

It was then the newest member of their group decided to add his two-cents. "Tiny squishies can run fast," Wildrider said, offering his palms up with innocence shining in his too-bright optics. Rachel rolled her eyes and Wheeljack didn't look any happier.

Oddly, that seemed to end the awkwardness. Both Danny and Rachel dumped they packs by Wheeljack's legs and went to the edge of the hill, contemplating their descent down. They wanted to keep their position there unknown to the travelers below, so they decided to move to the right and end up meeting the new group head-on on their path.

"I'll chuck a grenade at them if they do something stupid, and then we'll run back up here," Rachel said, looking to Jazz for approval. As much as she was headstrong and eager to get into a fight, she valued Jazz and Thundercracker's opinions on warfare more.

Jazz only nodded. "Get goin' then," he said.

Both girls complied and started down the hill. Thundercracker felt strangely nervous as the humans approached the trio on the road below. Humans were a dime-a-dozen, even now, when the majority of their populations had been wiped out. He shouldn't have been so nervous about sending two into danger.

…But these were _their_ humans. Bonding with teammates in a warzone wasn't unexpected, but Thundercracker was still unnerved by his protectiveness of the girls, as if they were his own younglings. It was a strange thing to think and feel, but not unwelcomed, he conceded.

The moment of contact happened when the girls came stumbling out of the tree line and directly into the path of the strangers. The humans looked up in surprise, and strangely, the Decepticon didn't really seem startled. He watched as Rachel and Danny walked up to the humans. A conversation broke out between the four humans. Thundercracker watched the scene unfold carefully, knowing Jazz and Wheeljack were just as tense. To his right, Wildrider was also watching with unveiled interested.

After a long and tense moment, the girls and the two new humans seemed to relax, the conversation going well, apparently. The Decepticon was still standing there, unfazed. Thundercracker was about to consider the possibility the mech was suffering from a severe internal problem or physical injury, when suddenly, the mech looked straight up at the hill at them.

Thundercracker felt Jazz tense up like a coil spring, but he didn't move. Neither did Wheeljack or Wildrider, who let out a nervous giggle regardless. They stared back at the unfamiliar Decepticon, who also remained still and staring. Thundercracker didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps, if the mech had been following them, he would have known they were there for far longer than they had known about _him_. That was unsettling.

After a few moments, the girls began to motion up at them, signaling to come down. As the Transformers complied, taking slightly wider path down the less dense side of the hill, Thundercracker wondered what they would find.

While the unknown Decepticon hung back with a blank stare, the two humans greeted the incoming mechs with a decent amount of bravery. They were both male, of different ages. The older seemed more acquainted with the Transformers and even greeted them with a jaunty wave.

"Holy shit, they were right. There's more of you things," the elder man said, astonished. He laughed loudly, slapping his thigh. "Ha! I knew those were rumors, that all you aliens were dead! Who'dathunk?"

"We're very much still alive, sir," Jazz replied, grinning audio receptor to audio receptor. "Name's Jazz. I was Optimus Prime's lieutenant, back when we were still an actual army."

"Name's Piers Goddard, but just call me Goddard," the man said. He had a loud, cheerful disposition. How Autobot. Reaching over, Goddard grasped the younger boy by the shoulder and shook him gently, wearing a fond look. "This here is Barnaby Rancourt."

"Hello," the boy added, shifting nervously.

Rachel beamed and motioned back at the other mechs who remained unnamed. "The big guy here is Thundercracker," she said, pointing at him. "He used to be a Decepticon, like Vortex, but he's a nice guy now. The other big guy, with the weird ear-things, is Wheeljack."

"He's a scientist!" Danny chirped, nodding enthusiastically. "And my adopted guardian."

"And…that's Wildrider," Rachel finally concluded, pointing at the said-mech, who was peering curiously at Vortex still. "Um. He used to be a Decepticon, too, but he's claimed he's not anymore." She frowned. "He's a little, ah, nuts."

"I am not," Wildrider suddenly blurted, giving the child a very fake wounded look. "I thought ve vere better companions that that, Rachel!"

"If I didn't like you, I would just say you were batshit insane and not to talk to you," Rachel replied, arms crossed against her chest.

Strangely, that seemed to perk Wildrider up. "Oh." He grinned, just a _little_ maliciously. "You like me!" He cackled, making Barnaby and Goddard flinch.

"I see what you mean by a _little_ nuts," Goddard said, frowning uncomfortably.

Jazz smiled wryly, crouching closer to the two humans. "You get use t' him." His optics flickered upward, toward the remaining Decepticon behind the two. "So, who's yer friend, boys?"

Barnaby hesitated under the scrutiny of the Autobot and Decepticon mix, but turned back to look at the silent 'Con. "We think his name is Vortex, or something similar. We have had a few language problems," Barnaby said, a light accent audible in his voice. Probably French. "We only met a few weeks ago. He saved us from other humans who were trying to harm us."

Thundercracker stared at the boy and then the mech named Vortex. Something didn't seem right. The most pressing concern he and any of his other companions had were with this new mech. If he had been following them for as long as Wildrider suggested, Thundercracker wanted answers as to why he did that. He caught the smaller Decepticon's gaze and glared back at him.

"You were following us," he said bluntly to Vortex. "Why?"

Vortex didn't even flinch. Instead, he broke out into a language Thundercracker had not heard in almost five decades—their own.

" _I am Vortex, part of the Bruticus gestalt team_ ," the mech said. The Cybertronian sounds were almost alien to Thundercracker's audio receptors.

" _I knew it_ ," hissed Wildrider, sounding accusing, but looking gleeful. " _Another gestalt member_."

" _Speak English. It is the primary language of the natives_ ," Jazz interrupted. He was wearing one of the more serious expressions Thundercracker was used to seeing on the smaller mech.

Vortex's red visor narrowed. " _I was one of the last teams sent into this hellhole_ ," he snapped irritably. He wore a battle mask, making it impossible to get a full read of his emotions. " _I never received the necessary language files_."

Jazz and Thundercracker exchanged glances. " _Well, we aren't going to leave ourselves open for a surprise hit by opening a channel to give you the files_ ," Jazz replied, edgy. " _You didn't answer his question, Decepticon. Why were you following us_?"

Hesitating, Vortex looked at Jazz and then at Thundercracker—and then Rachel. Thundercracker tried not to react physically, but he still didn't know the intentions of this mech. Rachel was oblivious and stared back openly at the new mech. Only Wheeljack moved, subtly placing more of himself in front of Danny, who was practically ogling at the new humans (or, more specifically, Barnaby).

" _Why are you traveling with the human_?" Vortex suddenly demanded. He pointed at Jazz, accusingly. " _Why do you, an Autobot and a Decepticon, willingly travel together? I saw—I saw you working together, in a city. I want to know—why?_ "

"Why what?" Jazz blurted, slipping into English. Rachel and Danny paused and looked at the Autobot in surprise.

"Everything okay?" Danny asked, frowning, glancing between Vortex and Jazz now.

Vortex was not calming down now, though. " _And then you found more of them—and you still worked together_!" he exclaimed, his calm tones quickly rising into hysterical tones. Thundercracker groaned internally as he realized they were dealing with another Wildrider case. Vortex now pointed at him. " _You are a Decepticon! How—why are you working with the Autobots_?"

" _Because we needed to survive, you aft-brained slagger_ ," Thundercracker snarled. He took a step forward, looming over the other flier. " _Going it alone is suicide. We teamed up because we all needed allies, and after Galvatron attempted to murder me, I personally held no positive feelings for the Decepticon army. What I was there for died the moment that slagger started to kill us all off_."

" _And I just don't like being minority_ ," Wildrider added, grinning.

Thundercrack glared at the ex-'Con, but movement caused him to focus again on Vortex. The other flier looked nervous under Thundercracker's shadow. None of the humans looked comfortable anymore and Danny and Rachel retreated further behind Wheeljack.

It was the boy, Barnaby, who broke up the tension. He coughed, making several of the mechs flinch.

"Is everything alright?" he asked politely.

Jazz did his best imitation of a human sigh and gave the young man a weak smile. "Eh, Vortex here doesn't know how to speak English," he said, carefully avoiding revealing what the conversation had been about. "How did you know his name before?"

"It took a bit figuring out," laughed Goddard. "Could only say 'big wind' 'til we tried out other words and he found something he liked."

"Can't you guys just share it with him? The language files?" Danny asked, curious. "'Jack said you guys can download and exchange files." She hesitated. "What do those things mean, again?"

"Like a computer," Barnaby said, impressed.

Danny immediately stared at him. "A what?"

"They were like automatic books. My grandparents used them when they were younger," he explained brightly. "I've never used one, because all the power the computers ran on ran out."

Both Danny and Rachel looked amazed. Thundercracker withheld his own sigh; maybe the scientist was right. The kids lost a lot of their histories.

"Still…you should be able to share the files. You are computer based, aren't ya?" Goddard interjected. He looked intrigued.

Wheeljack did not look too happy at that inquiry. "Well…yes…but one does not haphazardly allow an unknown mech access to their systems, even for something as light as a basic file transfer," he explained carefully. He eyed the Decepticon warily. "Especially unknown Decepticons."

Vortex stared back openly at the scientist, unimpressed, even though he did not understand what was being said. Thundercracker looked over at Jazz and saw the Autobot was thinking; undoubtedly about how to get Vortex speaking the same language as everyone else.

Help came from, again, the unexpected place. " _I can do it,_ " Wildrider said, earning all the mechs' attentions. He grinned arrogantly. " _I am not afraid of big bad Decepticon_."

Thundercracker glared at the fidgety mech. " _No, because you'll give him the weird accented language files you have_ ," he snapped. Jazz choked on a laugh.

" _You can't_ download _an accent, Thundercracker_ ," Wheeljack cut in. He didn't like confrontation, so Thundercracker wasn't surprised the scientist was being so quiet.

" _Yes,_ " Wildrider added, " _I picked mine up from some humans I encountered_."

Suddenly, Thundercracker was very grateful they were speaking a language the humans couldn't understand. Both Autobots and himself gave Wildrider a dark look; the context of his answer was too ambiguous for their tastes.

"… _You didn't kill them did you_?" Jazz asked, optics narrowed. Thundercracker didn't know what he—or himself—would do, depending on Wildrider's answer.

Wildrider only grinned and shrugged nonchalantly. " _No. The drones did_ ," he said, sounding far too entertained for the subject at hand. He paused and then his grin grew. " _I liked very much their voices. Rough and strong for such small creatures_."

Jazz cracked a grin finally. " _Then why are you still speaking weird now_?" he asked, amused.

" _Why are you asking him that? It's obvious he's just insane_ ," Thundercracker snapped.

" _Do you want my help or not, boss mechs_?" Wildrider demanded, optics narrowed. He imitated the pose an irritated Rachel or Danny would take, with his arms crossed and tapping a foot impatiently. The humans snickered in their oblivious states, but all Thundercracker wanted to do was smack the insolent bolthead across the helm.

Jazz, of course, was far more genial. " _Go ahead, if you're up for it_ ," he said, nodding. He looked to Vortex, who looked slightly uncertain now. " _Your choice, Vortex, but if you won't speak to us in a language everyone here can understand, we aren't doing business with you_." His voice grew as sharp as his optics. " _Understand it or not, we're a team, humans included_."

Vortex stared at him for a moment. He dwarfed the Autobot, but didn't seem big. In fact, ever since his outburst, Vortex seemed to have shrunk in on himself. Thundercracker could sympathize with his confusion and desire for answers. He didn't know why he didn't care anymore. He didn't know why he felt comfortable enough to feel something more than hatred— _more than friendship_ —for an Autobot, let alone humans, too. Perhaps Wildrider was not so far off the mark, he mused. Something on Earth had changed them. Whether it was the need for allies, or the need for companionship, or just the mere circumstances that ripped all of their lives to shreds only to build them back up in the strangest of ways—

Thundercracker didn't need answers anymore. He had this.

Without a word, Vortex lifted his arm toward Wildrider, who sauntered up with enough arrogance to rile Thundercracker's nerves again. He wondered briefly how the mech knew how to transfer such files, but Wildrider had been part of a Gestalt, who were notoriously weird and prepared for the strangest of tasks.

Even without the benefit of understanding the language, the humans realized what was happening. " _He's_ giving Vortex the files?" Rachel demanded, stunned and mildly horrified.

"I can hear little human," Wildrider muttered. Goddard laughed, loudly again. The others seemed to loosen up as well, to watch the exchange with piqued interest.

Thundercracker watched as Wildrider and Vortex exchanged the interface cables in their arms. Their optics flashed and then continued to pulse as the information was uploaded and then downloaded. The exchange would only take a few seconds. He couldn't care less about if Wildrider did get injured by this, but he did feel obligated to watch just in case something happened. It didn't seem right to claim they were a team and then leave the newest member out to hang.

Twenty seconds later, Vortex and Wildrider stepped away from each other, optics still shining brightly, though that was normal for the deranged Wildrider. Disconnecting his cables, the ex-'Con seemed…shaken.

" _Vortex is gestalt mech, like me_ ," Wildrider said, his voice full of static. He was shaking even worse now, but was smiling. For once, it resembled something a sane mech might wear. " _A true miracle of Primus, that both he and I live_." Wildrider stilled and made a hissing sound, looking uncharacteristically distant. " _Should have died with the bond_."

 **  
_Why am I alive?_   
**

Thundercracker shuddered and forced images of his dead bondmate out of his processor. The breaking of a bond was horrifyingly painful. Not everyone survived it, only if they were unlucky. He looked away quickly when Wildrider looked at him questioningly.

Jazz stepped forward, pointing at Vortex, who also seemed out of it. "Speak," the Autobot commanded, this time in English.

Hesitating, Vortex looked at Jazz with a guarded look. "…This language is…strange," he stated, his voice stilted, the language unfamiliar.

"You get used to it," Jazz replied, grinning.

"It has many good quirks!" Wildrider added, gleeful. Vortex stared at him in mild confusion, but the other ex-Con just laughed. "There are many things to do vith it. Many twists to make."

"I like the English language as well," Barnaby suddenly said. Vortex looked down at the human with wide optics. Barnaby continued, oblivious to the attention. "My mother, she was from England, so my grand-meré taught me her language."

"You speak French, though?" Rachel asked.

Barnaby nodded, grinning. " _Oui_. I prefer English while with others, though," he said. He laughed, making the girls chuckle, too.

"You have to tell me about France. And England," Danny said, excited. "We traveled a lot through France, but none of us were French. Obviously."

"What nationality are you?" Goddard asked, looking at the girls. He looked proud as he added, "I'm American. At least my ancestors were."

"American by blood, born and raised in this mess," Rachel replied casually.

Danny grinned and gushed, "We don't know about me, but Wheeljack raised me since I was baby!"

The humans were quickly caught up in their own conversation, with Danny regaling them with the story of how she arrived in Wheeljack's care, with Wheeljack supplementing information when needed. Suddenly, the whole situation seemed to tilt in an unbalanced way; Thundercracker was left standing there next to Vortex as the others socialized further away. Jazz didn't even say a word to him, other than subtly brushing his elbow against Thundercracker's arm as he passed by.

 _I leave this in your capable hands_ , Thundercracker almost heard the smug Autobot say from that one mere gesture. Grinding his jaw, Thundercracker looked to his side. Vortex was watching the humans and mechs converse, looking both out of place and severely disturbed.

"Why?" he whispered, as if struggling for an answer, as if that were all that was keeping him afloat—keeping him _sane_.

Whether it was the repeated questioning or the fact he himself never received answers for that same inquiry—Thundercracker couldn't stand it any longer.

"Because I lost everyone," he hissed, rounding on the Decepticon faster than he remembered moving. The others didn't turn around, even as the emotional tirade he had tried to hold back burst from his spark and fell haphazardly into words. "My bondmate, my friends, my commander—" _burning wings, empty chest, the freezing choking hold of madness settling in from every corner_ "—everyone I had left to live for. I found another reason, and then another, and now, its all of us together, for better or worse. Dying with someone else…is far better than dying alone." His spark thrummed painfully as he glared down with blazing optics at the other mech. "That's _why_."

Vortex stared up at him with a frozen stunned expression. For a moment, Thundercracker wanted to retract what he had just said, not for the other mech's benefit, but for his own. Admitting that wasn't…right.

But Vortex didn't seem to care. "…I…" he began, faltering.

And then something snapped in his optics. Stunned surprise morphed into disquieted grief. Horror. A grim, grim realization.

"...I…lost," Vortex continued, his voice hollow, "all of them. My brothers. They are dead."

There was a terribly haunting tone to his voice. No one had escaped the horror Galvatron had brought to Earth—no human, no Autobot, no Decepticon—and there was little anyone could do, but survive.

But Thundercracker knew that there was something else, other than survival. Something more important—something he never thought he'd dare to consider more important.

"We all have lost what was once dear to us, but don't judge us for trying to rebuild some semblance of what was," he snarled, taking a step away from the other mech. He paused and tried to think of what to say. "I…was not comfortable recharging next to an Autobot either, but believe me, Vortex, after a few months, you don't notice the sigils anymore." He glanced to the side, where the others stood, his optics going to the silver mech in the center. "All you see is a mech who's going to be watching your back when real danger shows up. It's better than _stalking_ after another group of survivors."

Vortex stared at him, silent as he had been during Thundercracker's tirade. Prepared to leave it at that and go rejoin the others, Thundercracker was suddenly inspired to ask a question of his own.

Loomed back over Vortex again, he snarled, "Here's a question for you, _Decepticon_." Why didn't it feel wrong to accuse someone else of being what he himself had been less than a century before? "If you are still clinging to Decepticon ideals, why did you save the lives of those two humans?"

Vortex didn't say anything at first. He gazed right back up at Thundercracker, meeting the larger mech's gaze without a flinch. Something changed in his faceplate, and suddenly, Vortex was snarling right back.

"I wanted to know," he said, trembling. "What would happen if I did what you did, protect instead of destroy."

Thundercracker leaned down, optics pinned to optics. "Well?" he asked. "What did you find?"

Vortex broke their stare to look over at the humans. He was watching Barnaby and Goddard. Both were fitting in with great ease with the others. Laughter drifted their way. A strange sound to hear now.

"Nothing," Vortex replied. The snarl was gone and all that was left was a trembling, whispering wreck. "Nothing happened, other than that I saved them." He sounded desperate.

Thundercracker glared at him without pity. "Just wait until they save you," he said, either as an assurance or a warning; he couldn't tell. " _Then_ something happens."

That got the other mech's attention. "…What?" Vortex asked, looking back up at him with uncertainty.

Optics narrowed, Thundercracker could only answer with one thing. "Trust."

Vortex stared back, still unsure, still confused. Thundercracker wanted to tell him that there would never be a clear answer, never a logical one. Because Earth was never a logical place, even before Galvatron arrived. All they had to gather from surviving there were the facts.

And each other.

"Show me," Vortex pleaded.

Show him this trust, this teamwork, was what he meant. Thundercracker growled lowly and began to turn away.

"It's not up to me if you're allowed to stay," he warned. But then he stopped, realizing something. He gave the 'Con a level look. "Don't be surprised if Barnaby and Goddard stick up for you, though."

That threw Vortex even more for a loop. "Why would they?" he demanded, trembling.

Why indeed. Thundercracker moved away and didn't look at the mech. "…You'll see."

That was a challenge—for Vortex to try it, to see for himself, what Thundercracker and Jazz could not explain. There was something unnatural that happened to them all, something that defied logic.

But if logic dictated that he wander alone, Thundercracker was more than happy to let logic rot and die.

He wasn't surprised in the slightest when Vortex followed him back out to the others.

 _Introductions: Part Four_ end.

 _Part Five_ to follow.


	5. Introductions: Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fallout**  
>  " **Introductions: Part 5"**  
>  by Nan00k
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. **  
> Warnings** : character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_Eastern Europe  
2048 AD_

Autumn arrived once again, marking it the thirty-second autumn season Wheeljack had experienced on Earth. It was only the fifth one he had witnessed the miraculous and breathtaking color display earth's foliage took on at that time of year. His hopes for the trees and flowers of earth returning had come true, to a degree. They had passed by some beautiful forests that had, in the spring, finally begun to grow new shoots off of the previous blackened tree branches. It would take many more decades before most of the plant life returned, but it was a start.

They were lucky the drones only attacked what moved; perhaps Earth would once again become green. The skies would have to lighten more, Wheeljack reasoned, however. It was still quite smoggy.

The natural life cycle of plants continued, even if the spring's yield was so small. It wasn't just the mechs who were awed by the color display the few leaves did put on—none of the humans, even the middle-aged Goddard—had seen fall leaves. All Wheeljack had before were files and sample photographs of what autumn leaves looked like. He was certain the real thing was much more vibrant, especially when cast against the brown sky.

"I remember when th' trees were all full this time o' year," Jazz commented as they traveled. He had been on Earth before Galvatron arrived. He spoke with fondness of what the planet used to be like. "Colors, everywhere. It was spectacular."

Wheeljack and the others could only imagine what it had been like to see that sight. Perhaps, they would see it too, someday. Wheeljack could only hope, at least for the children's sakes. They deserved to see it more than any of the Transformers did.

Sadly, they were leaving the forests and headed for another town, to stock up on supplies. To get there, they were taking the path down the mountain. They had run into little trouble since late summer and the path had been mostly easy-going.

However, upon reaching the quickest descent to the river and ultimately the town, they had discovered something Goddard would soon call, "The Valley of Dumbassery."

Rocks—huge boulders—dominated the landscape, all having come from the mountains higher up, most likely remnants of the last ice age. While there was plenty enough room for the mechs to move through the maze of rocks, a new problem arose for the humans.

Well, one human, Wheeljack amended.

Having discovered that the rocks were indeed climbable and at a height just barely dusting over the height of most of the mechs, Rachel saw it fit to climb her way up to the tops. Angled close together at many points on their path, the young woman could easily leap the gaps and found herself a new source of entertainment. While the activity was potentially dangerous, Wheeljack sat back and let Rachel have her fun. Barnaby and Danny only shook their heads at the sixteen-year-old and laughed at her antics. They found it amusing.

Goddard, however, did not.

"I'm telling you, you little monkey, to get _down_ from there!" the fifty-something-year-old man shouted, trying to wave his fist in anger and keep pace with the female walking above him. "Now!"

Balancing expertly from an outcropping of rock, Rachel sent him an unimpressed glance. "I'm _fine_ , Goddard, _Jesus_!" she snapped, jumping the short gap between two boulders, wavering, but quickly regaining her balance.

Goddard made a frustrated sound. "This isn't the time or place to be running around like a lizard child," he snapped. "Get. Down."

Rachel made a face at him and continued to walk along the edge of the rock. "I'm practicing for 'Jack's flight suit," she explained shortly. "I gotta get used to being up high. And I'm not a child, you moron, I'm gonna be eighteen in two years."

"Climbing a rock ain't the same as flying, _moron_ ," Goddard said, amusingly shooting the girl's words right back at her. "And as long as you're younger than me—and you _are_ —you're a goddamn child!"

Barnaby smiled up at Wheeljack, who glanced at him in amusement. "Are you alright letting her walk up there?" he asked.

"I think it's stupid, but I'm close enough t' catch her," Jazz replied, catching both their attentions. The silver mech grinning lazily and if Wheeljack didn't know any better, he would assume the Autobot wasn't watching Rachel carefully. Looks could be deceiving, however. "Let her have her fun."

Goddard was shouting all kinds of obscenities at Rachel, who shot back some of her own. Wheeljack, for all of his exasperation, couldn't help but chuckle at their antics. The fact they had the energy and time to spare to act so silly was always refreshing. The fact all of them were close enough to act that way with only good intentions meant was even more pleasing to know.

"Little Rachel has good idea!" Wildrider suddenly exclaimed. Without a word of warning, the unstable mech was clambering up the side of a lower rock. "Adventure time, yes?"

" _Oh, fer Christ_ —GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, YOU NUTJOB!" Goddard shouted, losing his cool completely now. He had to stand by helplessly as the ex-Decepticon made it up onto the rocks and began to prance across their surfaces until he caught up to Rachel. Both decided then to race each other, and were quickly out-pacing the others on the ground. "You have no idea how secure those rocks are, you addle-brained idiots! _You weigh three tons_!"

"Goddard," Danny began, laughing, " _relax_. If the 'bots aren't freaking out, you shouldn't either."

Wheeljack laughed as Goddard went from mildly red to full-out crimson as he launched into another tirade about how he had just as good an eye for danger as any mech did. If he weren't used to the American growing so agitated over little things, he would have been concerned by the color change. But Goddard was Goddard, and his quirks were no different than any of the others' were.

The human had a point, Wheeljack conceded; Goddard played the "mother-hen" as often as the mechs did, but at least Wheeljack was learning to step back. Danny was his main charge and she was maturing quickly. He began to step back, reluctantly, from watching out for her every need. It wasn't easy.

All of them were growing up. Rachel had just turned sixteen, and Barnaby and Danny were both seventeen. Signs of maturity went further than just on a physical level; Rachel was calmer than ever and _listened_ to advice sent her way. Danny was frequently sending amorous advances toward Barns, who was either oblivious to the signs, or was ignoring them. Barnaby was becoming fascinated with Wheeljack's knowledge as a scientist and expressed an interest in mastering a skill in that field as well. He was certainly intelligent enough. If only they had a lab…

Wheeljack wondered how long he could call them "children." Perhaps he had already overstepped his usage of the word—after all, any child was forced to grow up fast in this world. Sometimes, he wished things were better, and he could have let Danny have a normal childhood, as a _human_. Mere survival destroyed the possibility of having a real, culturally normal childhood…

"Hey, you alright, 'Jack?" Danny asked suddenly. Wheeljack looked down at her as he sidestepped a sapling popping up out of the ground. The human tilted her head, concerned.

Danny was always perceptive of his moods. Earfins pulsing as he smiled behind his mask, Wheeljack tilted his head back at her. "I am fine, Danny," he replied. He stopped thinking about what could have been. _Now_ was far more important.

Staring to speak, Danny was probably going to pry for more information—but something distracted her, as well as everyone else present.

"…Heyyyyy."

It was Wildrider, from further down the path. Apparently the walking path curved, as Wildrider (and presumably Rachel, who was not visible from their angle) was standing at an odd position. Most of the red-and-black mech was hidden behind another rock.

"Hey, boss mechs," Wildrider shouted again, not turning around. He was focusing on something else, from what Wheeljack could surmise.

"What, 'Rider?" Jazz called, not concerned. They would be in visible position of Wildrider and Rachel within a hundred steps or so.

Something in Wildrider's tone seemed off. "You, ah, might vish to see this," the mech shouted back. He didn't seem any saner…but he seemed focused.

Rachel's voice was suddenly audible. "Jazz! TC! We have a problem!" she added loudly. She sounded much more hurried.

Thundercracker and Jazz immediately increased their speed, moving past the other humans. Panic crossed their features and Wheeljack felt inclined to share their terror. Anything could have happened. Rachel was intelligent, but pushed her boundaries. Wildrider was saner than he had been in months, but he was still unhinged for a mech. That combination never boded well together.

The worst fear Wheeljack had as they made the turn and looked down the line of rocks was thankfully unfounded; Rachel and Wildrider were both still on the rocks, on the lowest edge, and were both peering with huge eyes and optics down the incline that began where the rocks ended. Wheeljack couldn't see what they were looking at with such concentration. Seeing Wildrider look even mildly concerned was…disconcerting.

"What's wrong? Are ya okay?" Jazz asked quickly walking over to them, optics on Rachel.

"It's a mech!" Rachel called, ignoring him and pointing anxiously down the incline. Everyone on the ground jumped at her exclamation. "I-I thought it was trash, but—it's _pink_!"

"Energy signature is very veak," Wildrider added. He looked unnaturally serious. "Most likely…Autobot."

Wheeljack followed Jazz to the ledge and looked down. It was a mess of rocks and foliage, all combined on a deep embankment that lead down to the river they had been looking for. Nothing was registering on his radar…until he reached the edge and there was in fact a faint blip of an online mech somewhere nearby. It was an Autobot, something for which the scientist almost leapt for joy.

"Dang, she looks fragged up," Jazz murmured, concern flickering across his facial features. "The signal is so weak."

Below him, Barns, Danny and Goddard flinched. " _She_?" repeated Danny, stunned.

Wheeljack sighed heavily. "I will explain later," he said. "If this Autobot is injured, we had better move quickly."

It was an interesting trip down. Thundercracker helped Rachel get down from the rocks and all four humans were climbing down ahead of the mechs, who had to fight the protruding stones as well as gravity. Wildrider, of course, had to complicate things by jumping form rock to rock, all the way down.

"You are going to get us all killed!" yelled Goddard as chips of rocks fell down on them as Wildrider slammed into another boulder.

"Ha! At least I vill have fun, yes?" Wildrider replied haughtily. He was the only one who laughed.

Barnaby, however, was more concerned with the last conversation. "I had no idea you guys came in anything but male form," he said, amazement shining in his face.

"You never told me you had girls, Wheeljack," Danny added, glancing at her guardian curiously.

Seeing that none of the other mechs were deigning to aid him in the explanation, Wheeljack resigned himself to giving a biology lesson to the curious humans. "Identifying us as 'male' and 'female' is inaccurate, given we are asexual by nature, but I suppose it would be easier to explain us by saying we can choose to be seen in bi-sexual way," he said carefully, focusing on finding his footing on the incline.

That apparently didn't appease the humans. "…What?" Goddard asked, his bewildered expression identical to Barns and Danny's faces.

Rachel, however, was not too surprised to be silent. "What the fuck—this whole time, Jazz and TC were _gay_?" she blurted out. Wheeljack didn't miss seeing Thundercracker nearly trip over a rock; neither did Jazz, who broke out into a hysterical laughing fit.

"Does it matter?" Barns asked, arching an eyebrow. He was always the more conscientious one, when he wasn't joining in on Wildrider and Jazz's pranks.

"Well…no," Rachel said, frowning. "But still! I just thought they were, you know, genderless. Asexual, whatever."

Wheeljack sighed again. "We are. But you forget what we are, Rachel," he said, glancing at the frowning young woman. "Our name doesn't translate into 'Transformers' for no reason. Our main defense and offense will always be to blend into any surrounding environment. Because Earth has primary bi-sexual organisms, especially the dominant sentient group, we are able to choose male or female appearances that best suit our personalities and physical build. Mechs are those who project what you'd call a male persona, and femmes are those who project a female persona."

Danny looked confused. "…So if you're small and dainty, you're a girl?" she said at last. "At least, you pretend to be if you're around male and female organics?"

"Not pretend," Wheeljack corrected. He knew that this would be a tricky conversation. "Just…project as."

"That doesn't explain why Jazz isn't projecting a girl image," Rachel said suddenly. She grinned teasingly. " _He's_ small and dainty."

Barns and Danny burst out laughing and Goddard even grinned, chuckling. Jazz, having just finished laughing about Thundercracker's blunder, suddenly sobered.

"Watch it, kiddo," he said with mock seriousness, even as Rachel continued to laugh. "I know where you recharge."

Wheeljack smiled behind his mask at the antics of his friends, but his processors would not allow him to be distracted now as they approached the fallen, unknown Autobot. Femmes had been a rarity ever since the start of the war. Finding one alive—on _Earth_ of all places—was even more unnatural than finding a mech.

And what it _meant_ , too. Perhaps the human concept of male-female relations wasn't totally off base when concerning the role of mechs and femmes in Cybertronian biology. Sparks were made through the power of the All Spark…but Wheeljack himself had studied the rare cases of a mech and femme creating a spark on their own. It was exciting, exotic—but ultimately a very rare improbability.

It wasn't as though they could even consider trying to bring another spark into existence, not here. Wheeljack's initial inklings of hope died harshly as he remembered the reality of their situation. This was no place to experiment with sparks and certainly no place to want to raise a sparkling. Danny, climbing just a few feet in front of him, was an exception made by circumstance.

They all finally reached the gully. No one seemed like they wanted to be the first ones to move in, even the humans.

"If she's hurt, she might attack without thinking," Goddard murmured. He glanced over at Wildrider, who was standing on a large boulder that was at the bottom of the incline. "Hey, 'Rider, wanna earn a free wash and wax in the next city?"

"Femmes are vicious vhen cornered. No thanks!" Wildrider laughed. He did move forward on the rock to peer over at the unclear form of the Autobot. "Probably offline, if she has not moved by now."

Jazz moved past the humans and walked in an arc around the fallen mech. He looked back over at the others once he was on the other side of the femme. "Alright, here's how we're doing this. I'm going t' send her a ping and see if she responds. All you 'Cons, back of off, she's gonna notice y'all first. 'Jack, I'm gonna need you t' get a bit closer, t' give her some more cover."

Wheeljack complied and strode forward cautiously. Peering behind the edge of the outcropping, he could see the pink and black form of a small Cybertronian body. It was undoubtedly a femme from the petite stature and she was offline. He could see deep lacerations going across her chest; she had probably escaped from a close encounter with the drones. But she was alive, from the electrical signals she was giving off; she needed medical attention soon.

Jazz motioned once with his hand and send the telecommunications request to the femme. The radio frequency was always weak, but for an injured and on-edge Autobot, that should have been a blaring wake-up call.

And he was right. Wheeljack stood his ground cautiously as the femme's optics abruptly turned on a blazing blue. Weapons hummed dangerously, and without much prompt, the femme was sitting upright, arms poised with canons, aimed at Jazz and Wheeljack. The femme's optics roved wildly, looking at the two of them, before glancing to the side, where the others stood. The weapons were not retracted.

"Stand down, soldier!" Jazz ordered quickly. He pointed at himself and then Wheeljack. "I am Autobot Jazz. This is Autobot Wheeljack and our other allies."

The femme's optics went back to the silver mech and were nearly white in color now. Despite her battered appearance, she apparently was quite ready for a fight.

"…There are Decepticons…" she said at last. Her voice was shaky and full of static, but there was a sharpness hidden within it. The optics went immediately to the side, where the said-Decepticons and humans were watching anxiously.

Jazz smiled, despite her reaction. "I know this is gonna sound nuts t' ya, but forget about them," he said. The femme flinched, sending him a bewildered look. Jazz continued. "They ain't causing problems. At least for now." He nodded at her, dropping his defensive position. "Who are ya?"

Few could resist Jazz's charms, but apparently, this femme could. She was crouching now and was looking at their circle of companions as one would a swarm of drones. Wheeljack could see she was in miserable shape, the worst of the damage in her leg strut. Given the single lower limb and her small stature, she would have been motorbike sized. With her only means of movement injured, she was effectively cornered.

Deciding it was best to have the group move back considerably, to allow Jazz and himself to calm the femme down, Wheeljack started to speak, to get Jazz's attention. However, something caught his eye about the new femme.

Perhaps it was her facial structure. Or rather, the unwavering glare she was wearing. The colors were new and the exterior design had been altered by her choice in alt-mode—

But Wheeljack knew that posture.

"…Primus," he whispered. Louder, Wheeljack stepped forward, saying, "Lieutenant Arcee?"

Ah, what wonders a simple few words could do. Thundercracker visibly uncoiled and gave the scientist a surprised look. Jazz and Goddard both appeared intrigued by Wheeljack's suddenly declaration and Arcee—oh, yes, it was Arcee—flinched back at Wheeljack's words.

After a moment of silence, Arcee lowered her weapons minutely. "…Do I know you?" she said finally, suspicion ringing in her voice.

Wheeljack nodded, though his processors buzzed with anxiety. "We were both stationed at Iacon, before the All Spark was launched into space," he said earnestly. "My name is Wheeljack. I was part of the medical staff and you were one of our assigned guard." He hesitated, recalling the memory of meeting the femme officer. It had not been the most pleasant of circumstances. "I believe I performed repairs on your sister, Chromia."

Surprise and recognition flickered across Arcee's face. Had he lungs, Wheeljack would have been holding his breath. Everyone in the clearing was tense by that point.

"…Wheeljack," she repeated. The weapons dropped even further. She seemed more withdrawn now, however. Strict politeness replaced the defensive mask. "I recognize the name. Forgive me. It has been a long time since Iacon fell."

Wheeljack's earfins pulsed, mirroring his small smile. "I understand what you mean," he said. "You were in one of the later teams to arrive here, yes?"

The femme nodded, saying, "Yes." Something changed yet again in Arcee's face. Her mouth plates hardened and suddenly, Wheeljack was facing the defensive mask again. "My sisters and I."

 _Ah._

Wheeljack's spark twisted in sympathetic understanding at what the femme was alluding to with just that simple declaration. Everyone had lost someone to this war, some more recently than others. Losing a sibling was no easier than losing a friend. Bonds of all kinds and depths could be broken—and all of them hurt terribly.

"I am sorry for your losses," he said quietly, lowering his head.

"Sorry is a sad word, Wheeljack," Arcee replied, her tone icy. However, the mask did slip a little, revealing the tired, emotionally exhausted femme once more. "I am sorry too, but sorry does nothing for what is lost."

Jazz wilted in an exaggerated way. "Aw, slaggit, another pessimist," he complained loudly. Wheeljack sighed at his comedic attempt.

Wildrider cracked up, now lounging on the rock. "Not me! I am always optimistic. Figures I vould be more positive zhan Autobot!" he cackled.

Both their attempts at comedic relief failed miserably. Arcee tensed up again, giving the Decepticon above her a scathing look. "I have little patience for _Decepticons_ , scum," she snarled. "I have no idea what glitch has addled all of your processors to think that standing here together is in anyway acceptable—or even logical—but I—!"

"Relax, lady, they're neutral now," Rachel interrupted, irritated. She poked Vortex's leg as if to prove a point; he only looked down at her in return. "I know you have a problem with Decepticons, but your war's over. It's all about survival and we all decided that survival is more important than some million year old war that doesn't matter anymore."

If Arcee was deterred by a native speaking to her, she didn't show it. She did lower her weapons slightly, much to Wheeljack's relief. "Mechs and femmes gave their lives for that war you speak of so callously, child," she replied tersely. Her voice was heavy with emotion.

"No offense," the blond-haired human replied, crossing her arms against her chest. "I'm just saying, you don't _have_ to be so hostile to them."

The other humans seemed inclined to jump in then. "Yeah!" Danny added, nodding enthusiastically, Barns and Goddard mimicking her. "Vortex, TC and 'Rider are a little…weird," she said, awkwardly, "but they pull their own weight and have even saved a few of us from time to time."

"TC's a good guy," Rachel said, nodding firmly.

"Vhat about me?" Wildrider asked, pointing at himself. He was looking down at the humans from upside down on his rock.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. "You're okay."

The Decepticon looked terribly insulted. "Just okay? _Ch'to—_?"

Wheeljack scratched at his helm, withholding another sigh. "Alright, alright, everyone calm down," he said firmly. Wildrider sank back, pouting like a child, and Rachel smugly remained silent after that. _One child? No, I have_ five _of them, and that's only if Jazz is behaving that day._

Said-mech decided then to speak up, catching Arcee's attention by pointing at her single lower limb. "You need t' get that leg fixed, Lieu," Jazz said, ignoring the dark look she was sending him. "Just sayin'."

"I've managed on my own for quite some time," she replied with as much friendliness as a wild dog. She sneered. "I would not wish to _interrupt_ your unnatural attempt at _inter-factional_ peace."

Jazz frowned at her snark. "We got supplies, if ya want them," he said pointedly. "I don't think any of us have any objections to getting' ya back on yer feet right?"

He looked at the others, specifically the 'Cons. Vortex just stared, Wildrider grinned and Thundercracker tilted his head. None of them voiced any kind of protest. Jazz turned back to Arcee, smiling brightly.

"See?" he said. "Not a problem from us."

The femme fell silent for a moment and stared at Jazz with a pointed look. "…you would spare them for a stranger?" Arcee asked, incredulous—but with a glint of hope shimmering through the grim shroud.

"Hell, lady, who's a stranger in these parts?" Goddard suddenly barked. His abrupt speaking made Arcee flinch in surprise. The human motioned at the entirety of the group, scowling. "We're _all_ survivors, we're all roughing it together, and frankly, if you think those little stamps of yours mean anything important anymore, forget it. Your war was over the moment you got here, 'cause that Decepticon leader went nuts and killed all his men. _Everyone's_ in this together, like it or not."

Arcee gave him a level look. "Our war has gone on much longer than Earth has been involved, human. Much longer." She held her head higher, jaw set. "The past cannot change just because a few of us decided to forsake it. _I_ am bound to remember it, even if you will not."

Wheeljack was not surprised that the humans were getting so incensed by Arcee's commentary. They were used to the Decepticons and Autobots within their strange entourage; while they knew of the war, they did not fully appreciate how strange their group really was. Still, Danny moved forward, earning Arcee's attention, and proceeded to smile grandly up at the femme.

"Then don't live in the past. You can move," the brown haired woman exclaimed. "There's a whole big ol' world now for you to pick from." Grinning, Danny thrust her thumb toward her chest. "Here's some prime real estate right here. "

Obviously, Danny had been paying attention to Barnaby's grandiose stories of Earth prior to the fall of human civilization. The words she used were ridiculous, but strangely fitting. Humans could create many more images out of their words than Cybertronians could.

Danny's attempted poetic words apparently gave Arcee pause. The femme was staring at Danny with a blank, guarded look, clearly going over what she had said. Wheeljack had no way of knowing what the Autobot was thinking. He did not blame her for being suspicious and even critical of their group. He sometimes thought about how bizarre the whole set up was. To think that only a few decades changed a million year old dynamic between mechs of different factions—it was amazing and unbelievable unless one experienced it themselves.

Changing Arcee's mind would not be easy. Wheeljack did not want to leave the femme alone in her damaged condition. She wasn't in danger of deactivating from them, but he doubted she'd be able to obtain fuel in that state. She was probably surviving on the human materials; she was in no condition to rely on self-repair protocols.

To his relief, Arcee's defensive posture deflated considerably. She had made a decision, it seemed.

"…I would not…mind assistance," she said, the words coming out with some difficulty. "I have found I am unable to transform. The last scuffle I got into with those abominations was my worst yet." She spat out the last words, bitter.

Jazz's broad smile took over his faceplates. "Ha, we all have our bad days," he said cheerfully. "Though, I think we've been farin' better ever since we started travelin' together." Leaning closer, Jazz winked suggestively. "You should see TC tear those suckers up."

A low growl from Thundercracker at the teasing comment made the humans and Wheeljack chuckle; Arcee was less amused. It did seem to alleviate some of the tension in the group and Wheeljack moved forward, bringing out his maintenance kit.

"I am no real medic, but I have basic first aid. Let's see what I can do for your struts," he said, tilting his head, smiling behind his mask.

Arcee was tense and she hesitated for a long moment, but nodded once. Wheeljack knelt before the smaller Transformer and got to work assessing the damages. Her single leg held up the entirety of her frame when she was in bi-pedal one—or rather, mono-pedal. Wheeling around on this rough terrain must have been a real pain.

However, if it was her only mode of movement, Arcee was in trouble. The heavy support strut on the left side was crushed, with wires poking out of it haphazardly. If she continued to put pressure on it, it would collapse. He had no idea how to fix the physical shell, but the wires, he could mend. Once they were tucked back inside, Arcee would just have to let her self-repair take over. It wouldn't take terribly long, Wheeljack surmised, but she would have to remain seated for the time—or be carried.

He doubted the proud femme would like that option too much.

As Wheeljack tended to the wires, he saw the others move away in his peripheral vision. It was just about dusk, so Jazz suggested they make camp there, just above the river. In the morning, they'd continue on to the city. It would take one, maybe two more days at best. Whether they would have Arcee in their company, Wheeljack didn't know. He did know that many in their group would resist remaining in one place waiting for her to heal up. Staying still for too long attracted trouble of all kinds.

Arcee was quiet for the majority of Wheeljack's inspection and only made a noncommittal sound when he told her to turn off sensors in the area he was working.

"You are headed for a human encampment?" she suddenly asked.

Wheeljack glanced up at her from his soldering. "No," he replied. "The children and Goddard aren't fond of staying in one of those for too long. Larger groups attract more drones." He chuckled at the irony; their own group seemed to be gradually multiplying. "We are headed for one of the empty cities nearby. Our human friends need supplies."

Arcee tilted her head. "Where are you headed, after that?"

"Oh, east, I suppose," Wheeljack said airily. They really never made any plans, except day to day. The basic idea was moving eastward though. "We've been traveling mostly on the Western side of the Alps for quite some time. Why?"

The femme stilled beneath his hands, forcing him to look up at her in surprise. "…Do not go further east than this place," she said lowly. Her optics were glowing brightly again and her voice was grim. "I landed in a land called China by its inhabitants. Their armies were ineffective against the drones, so I was forced to flee west. The drones set off many nuclear energy plants and the environment is very inhospitable. Your human friends would die if they encountered the radioactivity."

Wheeljack felt something cold twist at his spark. "…Oh. I see."

He had not even considered the possibility of that kind of danger. He knew the humans were particularly sensitive to radioactive materials and had always worried about the fallout from the war affecting Danny in some way as an infant. Walking into a nuclear wasteland would spell out instant death for all of the organics.

"Thank you, for the warning. I am very glad you told us this now," he said, patching up another wire, forcing himself to ignore the horrible images that popped into his processors. "Perhaps we will head back west then." None of the humans would be grateful if they had to endure the harsh north again, but if they had no choice, it was unavoidable.

Arcee murmured, "Do not mention it," before they both fell quiet again. Wheeljack could hear the children laughing and chatting as they prepared their own meal for the night. The mechs joined in too, and Wheeljack could hear the booming laughter of Wildrider over much of the conversation.

"The humans are not uncomfortable with the Decepticons," she said abruptly, making Wheeljack jump again. She had obviously been observing the group. She gave him a look of confused desperation. "Why? Are they truly that naïve?"

Smiling to himself, Wheeljack made the last few adjustments to her leg. "They are hopeful. There is a difference, believe me," he said cheerfully. "Thundercracker would never harm a human. He seems to care a lot about younglings and is protective of them."

Arcee shook her head slowly. "The other two, though. They are…"

"They are the newest to our group," Wheeljack replied. He was almost done with the wires. "Both have been psychologically scarred by the loss of their gestalt groups."

Arcee stilled in surprise. "…They were parts of a gestalt?" she asked.

Wheeljack nodded, sighing quietly. He finished the wiring and, using a bit of scrap metal he kept in his subspace, he covered the open wound.

"Bruticus and Menasor, apparently," he replied. "I have no idea how they survived that sort of bond break, other than with sheer will power. Wildrider seems to have survived by reverting to an immature and dissociative state, and Vortex seems to be having identity problems." Wheeljack stood back and, looming over her, tilted his head, speaking gently. "…I would venture a guess that they would understand your losses most. They too have lost siblings."

"They are nothing like me," Arcee snarled, her anger sudden and quick. Such a comment was surely an insult to her.

Wheeljack's earfins glowed with sympathy. "You have been alone for a long time, Arcee. You will learn that there are in fact similarities to be found between species and faction alike," he said softly. "If I can find myself relating to a tiny organic creature, and then to a Decepticon, I am sure the same could be said for you as well."

Arcee glared and looked away angrily. He personally could sympathize with her; he had been very reluctant to trust Wildrider and then Vortex. There were so many concerns and risks to consider. But as the femme fell quiet and Wheeljack was left to his own thoughts, he could only recall the conversation he had had with a selfless and innocent human only a decade previous.

" _I'll share it with you!"_

Wheeljack smiled behind his mask, spark pulsing with fondness. Yes, they had much to learn from the humans. To lose their world, lose their the majority of their species, their history, their right to live in peace—and then to welcome the very creatures who caused all of that? It was incomprehensible.

And ultimately, so very humbling.

If a tiny organic child could reach out to their enemies against all odds, Wheeljack decided, so could they.

"You won't be able to be moving around easily for a while," he said after a moment of glancing over the meager work he had been able to do. She really did need a field medic, rather than a scientist. "I am sorry. I wish I were a better medic. Quantum physics do little for battle wounds."

The smaller 'bot shook her head. "You have done enough," she said. She smiled slightly. "Thank you, Wheeljack."

"The offer still stands. If you wish, you can stay with us until you heal," Wheeljack said, motioning toward the group. "If you are nervous about the Decepticons, don't be. Jazz and Thundercracker will not allow them to antagonize you." Neither would the humans, he mused, but he doubted that would make Arcee feel better.

"…You trust them," the femme said at length, giving him a suspicious stare.

Wheeljack did the human-version of a shrug. "I trust them as they trust me—enough so that I know they have my back in a fight. They won't be stabbing me in the back as I recharge either." He chuckled. "After all, I am their source of fuel," he joked.

Arcee wasn't amused, but she didn't say anything negative to his commentary. She was looking past him at the others. Rachel was reclining on her usual spot on Thundercracker's thigh and was talking to the others. Wildrider was always jumping into the humans' conversations and never failed to make them crack up with his absurdity, Jazz joining in across from Thundercracker. Vortex, as usual, was silent, but he was always listening to the circle of humans by their campfire. All of them looked comfortable, mechs and humans alike. Wheeljack smiled behind his mask, pleased.

"You are a strange group," Arcee murmured, her optics glowing lowly.

"Strangest you'll find in this wasteland, I am sure," Wheeljack replied brightly.

Arcee didn't say anything. She just stared out at the others. Judging her situation. Weighing her options. Wheeljack realized the femme had very few of those. Was her life worth her pride—her honor? All Wheeljack knew was that he had asked himself that question many times in his travels. He knew his answer, and as it turned out, it was the same as Arcee's.

"I…," the femme started, awkwardly looking back at him, "would be grateful if you would have me until I am healed." Her optics flickered as she ran a scan of herself. "My self repairs, along with your assistance today, should have me at a satisfactory level of operation within thirty solar cycles."

That time frame was longer than he hoped, but shorter than he feared. "A month then," he re-stated brightly. He laughed at her confused expression. "You get used to the local terminology. It's all quite fascinating, really."

Arcee, had she eyebrows, would have been arching them like Rachel and Barns were fond of doing. "I see," she said at length.

Wheeljack helped the femme over to where the others were seated. Forming a circle, the others had left just enough room for Wheeljack and their potential guest. The Decepticons, Autobot and humans looked up as the two approached, Arcee confined to Wheeljack's arms. As he expected, the fierce femme was not happy about being carried, but she had the self-preservation to allow him to do so.

"Little bike joining us?" Wildrider asked, from across the campfire. He grinned, obviously motivated by the glare the femme was sending him.

Wheeljack sighed. "Temporarily," he said. Maybe that would change, he added to himself. Maybe.

Barnaby grinned, twirling his dinner-on-a-stick over the flames. "Great," he said. "Welcome to the family, then, Arcee."

Arcee stared at him in discomfort. Jazz scooted over and helped Arcee slide down beside him. Wheeljack settled down in the remaining opening to their circle. Danny made her way over to him and rested against his knee, settling in. After their dinner, the humans retired to recharge rather quickly. There would always be another long day of hiking or fleeing to come with the rising sun, and fires attracted too much attention at night. The mech would recharge where they sat now (Vortex and Wheeljack had first shifts to watch for dangers in the night), so Jazz would keep an eye on Arcee for now.

Prepared to spend the first half of the evening on alert, he was surprised by the feather-like touch of hands on his leg. Glancing down, he saw Danny looking up at him, her face shadowed by the dying light of the campfire.

"Good job, 'Jack," she whispered. He could see, just faintly, that she was smiling softly.

Wheeljack's earfins pulsed lowly back at her. "Thank you, Danny."

They settled for the night, leaving Wheeljack to his thoughts and hopes for the future.

 **00000**

 _2048 AD  
Northern Europe_

Kass woke up to shouting. Her heart was entrapped with icy fear and she prepared herself for the worst—until she heard her father laughing. It wasn't a happy laugh, but if he was here (and not running to the armory) and had the time to stand around to laugh even in disbelief, this wasn't a drone attack.

Still, it was far too early for normal camp activities. She sat up quickly and looked around. Kevin was stirring in his bed, but their parents were both gone. The surest sign that something big was going on was that her parents' bed wasn't made. That was practically sacrilege for her mother to be too busy to take care of the beds. This was serious.

She didn't have to go far to find her parents. They were standing in the entrance that lead to their section of the camp. They had gradually taken over one of the corners of the living quarters and a blanket hung from one stone outcropping out to the other wall. In the hallway, the lights from weak maintenance lights were on, as always, dimmed still for sleeping hours. Other families were getting up too; conversation echoed all over the area, bouncing off the stone walls and ceiling loudly.

Her father and mother were also talking in hushed, but hurried tones. Her father looked almost excited, but her mother was wearing a severe expression. That did not bode well.

"What's wrong?" Kass blurted, unable to keep herself from sounding alarmed.

Her father and mother exchanged a quick look, but surprisingly, didn't try to sugarcoat the truth as they often did with their children.

"They found a mech, on the other side of the mountain," Edgar Hall said, his eyes shining strangely.

"A… _mech_?" Kass repeated, utterly confused.

Lisa Hall, unhappy but calm, nodded stiffly. "It's an Autobot," she answered. "One of the aliens."

Kass stared at her mother in stunned silence. Everyone had heard the stories about the aliens—the good and the bad. The good ones, the Autobots, had disappeared several decades ago. Children made up stories and adults spread rumors about them ever since. They were myth, at least that's what Kass had believed.

"He's alive?" she asked, grasping for something intelligent to say. She had so many questions!

"They're moving him into the Hall," her father answered. He seemed excited again. "Apparently, when the expansion team was drilling, they found an old alien ship embedded there, probably from then the war first started here. This poor guy had to have been in there for…goodness knows. Years, for sure."

Years? Alone? In a prison? Kass shuddered at the thought. "…How do they know he's a good alien?" she asked, nervous. Bringing strangers into the camp was always a political nightmare and rarely was it ever done for humans. Taking in an alien seemed even more ridiculous and _dangerous_.

"All the aliens, well, other than those flying squid ones, have icons on their chest, telling the world which team they belong to," Edgar said, pointing at his chest. "The bad guys have a purple, pointy face, but the good guys have a red one. I remember my dad telling me, from old television warnings about how to tell friend from foe, that they all have those symbols on their chest."

"So, this one has a red face?" Kass asked, biting her lip. She had only seen the drones a few times close enough to really get a good look at them. Faceless, inhuman things. She couldn't envision a nice one.

Edgar nodded, smiling. "Yup. I don't think they would have woke him up otherwise, kiddo," he chuckled. "Apparently, he was in a self-induced coma. The rescue team was scared silly when he turned on right in front of them."

Kass blinked. "…Whoa. Why did he do that to himself?"

"He was stuck there for a while," Edgar mused, his smile becoming fainter. "I guess sleeping is better than being alone."

What a thought. Kass let her parents discuss the matter further, tuning them out slightly. She didn't know what to think. It was exciting, but also dangerous, to have even a good alien there with them. What if his presence attracted the drones? At least they found him in the mountains and didn't have to drag him out in the open. Maybe the drones didn't notice.

She tried to imagine being stuck in a prison, without anyone else there. That must have been terrifying. Gripping her arms, Kass tried to push the image out of her head. She didn't want nightmares; she had enough already imagining what would happen if the drones ever did find them.

Footsteps made Kass and her parents look up at the same time, as a woman Kass only knew as her mother's co-worker turned a corner and headed toward them. She was moving quickly and looked alert.

"Lisa, they're going to need all the mechanics in the Hall," the woman called as she passed by. She had heavy-duty gloves on, much like Lisa would wear while repairing any of the machines they managed to find in working condition. "The robot's in a bad way."

The other mechanic didn't stop to listen for a reply and sped off down the corridor. Kass hid a smile as the expected reaction occurred. "Oh, just _great_!" her mother exclaimed, angry. "I have two kids to take care of, I don't have time for this!"

Kass frowned playfully. "I'm not a kid, mum," she said.

Lisa scowled right back at her. "You're sixteen, not a ruddy adult," she snapped irritably, though her husband and daughter laughed. "Besides, Kevin's still a boy and I have to watch him. We haven't even eaten breakfast yet!"

"I can do that," Kass started to say, but her father waved his hand at her.

"Why don't you go with your mum?" he asked, smiling. He laughed at her aghast expression. "You wanted to learn her trade, didn't ya? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, kiddo, to work on one of these fellas. They're not really robots, but they're quite advanced, from what my dad told me."

"B-but I'm not good with cars yet," Kass protested, feeling lightheaded. She definitely was not up to par with doctoring an injured alien car.

Unfortunately, her father wouldn't hear it. He pushed her back toward their room. "Hurry and get dress," he said. "Meet your mum at the Hall. I'm telling you, you won't want to miss this."

Kass would have protested more, but it was like trying to run upstream when her father was that insistent. Sighing, Kass rushed around and grabbed her day clothes from the end of her bed. Their home hadn't changed much in the last few years and Kass found herself face to face with her brother as she pulled on her beat-up shoes.

"What's going on?" Kevin asked thickly, sleep clouding his eyes.

"They found an alien, a good one," Kass replied. She grinned, suddenly a little excited. "Me and mum are going to go help fix 'im up."

"WHAT?" Kevin exclaimed, immediately awake. He floundered under his blankets, trying to escape their hold. "No fair! Lemme come too!"

Like all little boys, Kevin ate up the stories about the aliens. He was almost thirteen, but Kass had no doubt the idea of meeting one of the giants would be an irresistible event for him.

"Sorry, squirt," she said playfully, standing. "Mechanics only."

Never had Kevin looked more devastated. "You aren't a mechanic yet!" he accused.

That was true, but Kass shrugged it off. "I'm mum's apprentice, so I get to help a little." She didn't know if that would play out as true or not, but perhaps she'd get close enough to actually be able to tell Kevin about the creature. "I'll tell you all about it."

The halls were filled with people now and the caves only made the excited chatter seem like shouting. Kass winced as the noise grew to a fever pitch as she and her mother grew closer to the camp's main hall. Everyone would be talking about this for ages, she imagined.

Over the years, the camp had grown in population against all odds. The caves, which had once been quite spacious, were suddenly cramped and crowded. To make room and yet still remain within the protective mountain walls, the elders decided it would be best to just cut deeper into the rock, making their own caves. All Kass knew was that it was an on-going endeavor and a slow process. They could only work with out-dated machinery they found at an old city a few miles away, at what used to be a rock quarry. Her mother, who had always enjoyed tinkering with old machines, found a job as a mechanic who did maintenance on the digging machines. No one had ever expected the newly issued mechanics would be working on an alien, however.

"Poor zhing vas in a torture chamber, from zhe looks of it," a large woman with a heavy German accent said as the mechanics met up on the way to the hall. The lady looked like a mechanic as well. "Ve're going to have a tough job."

"Are we sure this thing isn't a Decepticon?" Lisa demanded. Kass shivered at the name for the bad aliens; she hadn't heard about them in a while.

The other woman shook her head. "Zhey're positive zhey've got an Autobot. He can't talk, from vhat I heard," she added. "Vhen zhey were dragging him back zhrough zhe tunnel, he vas docile, if zhat means anyzhing."

Lisa grumbled darkly, but Kass was immediately intrigued. She had no idea what to expect now. She knew the aliens could turn into cars and earth machines. Would this one be in one of those shapes? They could also look like big, metal men, too.

The Hall was the place where many families went to eat and where the adults would go for camp meetings to decide on new rules or settle problems. It wasn't that big, but it apparently was large enough to hold one of the aliens. Kass wondered why they would drag him all the way from where they had found him and plunk him inside the Hall. It was probably the furthest social area from the alien spaceship.

When Kass walked into the Hall and saw the alien for the first time, however, she suddenly understood why they took him to there; he wouldn't have _fit_ anywhere else.

"No way…" she breathed, gaping at the sight that lay before her. All of the elders were talking excitedly in the corner, pointing and directing the other mechanics.

The creature was at least ten feet tall. Her father was six foot something and this robot would make the human look like a child. Lying horizontal and on his back, the alien was motionless—but ridiculously large. Lying flat, it almost ran the entire length of the room from wall to wall.

Kass was shaken out of her trance when her mother pushed past her with a quiet huff. Stumbling both mentally and physically, Kass forced herself to follow her mother across the room, moving awkwardly past the foot of the alien, and the two ended up near its head. She had been wrong about the creature being still; it was making quiet, subtle motions.

Belatedly, Kass realized he was shivering.

"My goodness, you weren't kidding. The poor guy's a wreck," her mother was saying to one of her fellow workers. None of the mechanics looked particularly optimistic. "You figure we can actually do something for him?"

"Well, we can try," one of the mechanics replied. He was English, like them. He stared up grimly at the robot. "We don't even know if he can speak. I think his voice box got messed up somehow." He sighed. "They really messed this lad up."

The creature shuddered and Kass felt great sympathy for the alien. If they were supposed to look anything like a car, this one was really messed up. All of the wounds were old, given that rust was beginning to set in. Being stuck in a ship that was underground and in these caves must have really messed him up, if he was made of metal. Strips of the once-lustrous substance hung like one of those weeping trees; it was jagged and torn, though. Something—or someone—had ripped into his arms and legs. She could see wires sticking out. They were all torn, or burned.

 _Torture_. They had tortured him. Kass swallowed hard and tried not to get upset. She had never thought she would feel pity or empathy for one of these creatures. They had brought with them the drones. But they were still living things. Kass was suddenly grateful she hadn't let Kevin come with her. This was horrible…

"Do you want to help?" Lisa asked her daughter.

Kass stared down at the shivering wreck that used to be a living creature. The good had lost just as much as humanity had. She never thought she'd actually meet one. Or have the chance to save one's life.

She heard they lived long lives, much longer than a typical person would. She wondered if this robot had been there during the first fighting. Maybe he had saved a life. Maybe that was how he got into this sorry state—because he was trying to help someone.

"Yes," Kass replied. She grabbed a wrench from the workbench the others had set up near the head and gazed upwards. Blue lights shone in the darkest parts of the ruined face. They were weak and faint, but the lights reminded her of eyes. Taking a chance, she smiled at the lights.

And then, they got to work.

 **00000**

 _2048 AD  
Human Encampment_

Bluestreak was alive. Every time he onlined his optics, and he realized this, a strange feeling entered his spark. It was euphoria—disbelief— _hope_ —utter joy. When he offlined his optics several decades earlier, he had expected to awaken in the hold of the Matrix and the presence of the primes. But he had not. He woke up in the same place as he had been in the last time he was online. But there was one very clear difference between then and the moment he was reactivated.

There was noise. Glorious, glorious noise! Footsteps, breathing, _talking_ —it was all happening at once, loudly, softly, with cheer, with fear, with such great emotions, Bluestreak thought they would resonate within his audio receptors forever. He had reactivated the moment movement entered his electrical field. He thought it could have been his torturers—but he was surprised again. Instead of towering mechs, he had to look down at the swarm of tiny and very much organic humans who were ogling at him with a varied array of reactions.

They spoke English and other languages, but Bluestreak remembered English first. It had been the first one he downloaded in the presence of his old unit as they approached Earth. He tried to speak, but pain reminded him that his vocalizer had been damaged. Some of it had been fixed by his self-repair, but he had no energy to spare for excessive damage care. His limbs hurt less, but his chest stung. Salt and water had corroded some of his exterior shell. Phantom strikes of an energon whip made old wounds sting again.

The humans chattered constantly and Bluestreak was lost in the noise for a good moment before he realized he was being spoken too. The leader of the party asked him for a name and why he was there, but Bluestreak could only stare pathetically at the male human. After awhile, his mute condition was obvious and the humans took to chattering amongst themselves. Some pointed at his chest, at his chains—they deciphered the situation quickly.

Some wanted to leave him there, not trusting his alien status. Bluestreak couldn't blame them. But the majority seemed excited over the fact he was an Autobot. They had met others, Bluestreak thought, or had at least heard about them. He was apparently the first one in a while. Grim despair gripped Bluestreak's spark; they had lost the war?

The situation above the prison had apparently become more twisted and complicated than Bluestreak had even imagined. Megatron returned from the dead, as a new mech known as Galvatron, and began a genocide of not only humans, but Cybertronains as well. Survivors were far and in between, and these humans lived in a camp full of them.

They decided to cut him free in the end. Slamming into the ground once the chains were freed and the empty energon-feed line ripping out of his arm, Bluestreak felt pain anew. But it was a different kind of pain. It reminded him that he was alive—and free. He could barely stand. The humans told him the tunnels were too small for him to stand in. He had to transform. That in itself was a torture, but he managed it.

It had be incredible, to be surrounded by all of them, the humans. They were so interesting to listen to and to look at. The only torture remaining for him was exhaustion—and his voice. Oh, he missed being able to talk. He couldn't communicate with any of the medics they had working on him. They could only guess and work on the exterior damages.

They brought him gasoline. It was horrible and made his systems churn violently, but it was better than nothing, which he had been going on for at least the last year. Bluestreak grimaced internally as he realized how close to death he had actually come. The humans, digging for their own benefit, had saved his life. He couldn't wait to tell them that.

It took him a long time, but his self-repairs reactivated once again with the new source of fuel. He had to re-order the self-repair protocols himself, however, to focus on his vocal units, which had been labeled as of a lesser importance than some of his other damaged areas. It was foolish, but Bluestreak needed his voice, both to communicate, and to perfect this new, wonderful existence he had been readmitted to.

When he first spoke, it was to the elders. They were stunned at his newfound voice, but Bluestreak immediately put it to use, expressing his gratitude and gratefulness that they had chosen to save him. He imagined his presence had stirred up a lot of chaos in their camp, considering the guards by the room they had him in always had to shoo away curious eyes. Bluestreak wanted to meet all of the refugees, to tell them thanks.

Several weeks passed and Bluestreak was reintroduced to what was going on now on Earth. The drones were still dominating the landscape and there was no real progression of a rebellion or a counter-movement. The humans at this camp were focusing on surviving instead, building out into the mountains. Bluestreak offered to help move machines and to move materials when needed. The humans, at least the majority, accepted his proposal with enthusiasm.

Talking gave Bluestreak so many other opportunities though, that extended much further than just being able to thank his rescuers. Once the initial frenzy died down with him being there, he was able to meet more of the ordinary members of the community. Children swarmed the hall where he spent most of his time (he was far too large to walk around aimlessly and security would have prevented him from going anyway); Bluestreak loved younglings. One child in particular made Bluestreak smile a lot and was his first friend in many, many years.

Every morning, some humans would go to the hall to re-fuel. Bluestreak tried to take up as little space as possible. He felt bad about taking not only their resources (gasoline was scarce as it was) but also their space. Most humans grew to ignore him, though, but every morning, Bluestreak grew to expect his youngling friend to appear to dine with him.

"Good morning, Kevin," Bluestreak said as the brown-haired boy dashed over toward him.

"Morning!" Kevin gushed. He looked as though he had "just rolled out of bed," as some of the elders commented before. The boy was always running to and fro. Today, the child grabbed a bowl of warm mush from a table that helpers had in the corner, and made his way back to Bluestreak's side. "Sleep alright, mate?"

"I recharged great! How about you?" Bluestreak asked.

The boy began to regale him with tales of 'dreams'—they sounded like so much _fun_!—and Bluestreak settled into his corner to listen. However, as the boy chatted, Bluestreak's audio receptors picked up on other conversations going around room. Humans always seemed to be able to talk about something, which made Bluestreak love them even more, but one conversation about drilling caught his attention most. They wanted to drill into yet another new section of the mountains with newly obtained machinery. Everyone was excited about it.

However, an inkling of apprehension made Bluestreak stare pointedly at the two humans—a workman and an elder—which ultimately made Kevin stop talking and ask what was wrong. Bluestreak apologized, but focused on the two men.

"Excuse me," Bluestreak began, catching the two humans' attentions. He waved slightly before crawling forward a little. They looked at him nervously but Bluestreak was undeterred. "I overheard you guys talking about drilling more on the east side of the camp and I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

The workman seemed too uncomfortable to be able to speak to the Autobot, but the elder (Bluestreak recognized early on that the youngest and oldest humans always had the most spunk; they mellowed out in the middle) stared back at him without fear.

"Yes?" the older man asked, patient but clearly not in the mood for something inane.

Bluestreak didn't think what he had to say was inane. "I was curious," he said, wrapping his hands around his knees in a fashion he had seen Kevin do before. "You are using the machinery you found to do that? I know you found more of it in a city outside, but are you going to be carrying on with the other drilling projects, too? All of the machines will be on then, at the same time?"

The elder didn't look that concerned. "Yes, why?" he asked.

"Well, doesn't that make a lot of noise?" Bluestreak continued, unable to hold back his concerns any longer. They had been floating around his processor for a while, but the recent turn of events had made him consider them more seriously. "All the machines cutting into the rock is sending a lot of vibrations through the granite and might be sending out sound to the surface. Not a lot, I'd imagine, but aren't you worried about drones listening in?"

"We've been drilling for quite some time, boy," the white-haired man said shortly. Bluestreak belatedly was amused by the designation he was called. "Sure, we were concerned, but there hasn't been a sign of those things creeping any closer to us than before. The noise won't bother them."

"I sure hope not, because as much as the caves provide visual protection, do you have any escape routes?"

Kevin peered around Bluestreak's leg and decided to jump in on the conversation. "Through the back, yeah," he said.

That was pleasing to know. "Well, that's good!" Bluestreak said, smiling. "This place is so cramped, I'd be afraid of getting stuck in here during an attack." The placement of the hallways was good for the humans, but in a full attack? There would be no way out, unless the humans got to the escape tunnels. Bluestreak shivered internally; many would die regardless.

Kevin laughed. "You're only saying it's small 'cause you're so big!" he cried. He was always making jokes about how big Bluestreak was compared to the humans; it was only fair, considering Bluestreak often commented on their smaller size.

"True, but still," he said, grinning back at the boy.

"Enough with all the talk of an attack!" the old man barked, making Bluestreak and Kevin flinch. The elder waved his hand in an irritated fashion, unimpressed with Bluestreak's concerns. "We've been living in these caves for almost a decade now and it hasn't failed us yet. If you're paranoid, you're free to leave, but we're staying right here."

Bluestreak tilted his head. "…Oh."

The old man huffed to himself and he and his companion stood, having finished eating. Bluestreak watched them leave, feeling a little of his apprehension lift. They had a point, considering they had been there for so long. But was there such thing as too much faith?

Tiny hands suddenly touched his leg. "Blue, you're gonna stay right?" Kevin suddenly asked. Bluestreak saw the boy was staring at him with huge optics—eyes. There was hope and fear mixed into his expression.

"As long as I am allowed to, sure! I would love to!" Bluestreak immediately said, nodding enthusiastically. "I like this place a lot. The people make a lot of noise, and Primus, do I love that noise. It was so quiet in the prison, I could practically hear my own binary code rattle by."

"Well, good," Kevin said, breathing out a sigh of relief. He smiled nervously. "I like you around. You're cool."

The last word must have been an audio error. "I am cold?" repeated Bluestreak, confused.

Laughing, Kevin shook his head. "Ha, no, dummy!" he exclaimed. "It means you're interesting."

"Oh." Humans had slang too, apparently. Bluestreak smiled, tilting his head. "Well, you're 'cool' too, Kevin!"

Kevin beamed and Bluestreak smiled back, feeling content. If he was allowed to stay at the camp, he could stand the cramped and claustrophobic halls. He knew his presence might have scared some of the humans, but to be welcomed by just a small number, and to be given a real home—Bluestreak could have stood anything the universe threw at him.

"Lemme show you where I live," the boy said, pointing down the hall. "You gotta transform to fit, but I want you to meet my mum and dad. Kass won't want to, 'cause she's afraid of aliens, but dad is gonna _love_ you."

Bluestreak transformed and followed the talkative child slowly, beaming on the inside. Waking up in a world like this was worse than waking up back on Cybertron, or with his teammates—but it was a million times better than waking up alone in a cold cell.

A conversation, a home, a _friend_ —Bluestreak could not ask for anything more.

 **00000**

 _2048 AD  
Eastern Europe_

 _Coward_.

Gasping for breath, Rachel thought she was drowning in that dark forest they had finally taken shelter in.

 _Coward_.

But she wasn't drowning; it was just her heart that was sinking, not her body. Air rushed into her abused lungs in an attempt to sooth the burning muscle. Jazz had been too busy supporting the still-injured Arcee to be able to pick her up as well. She never expected assistance from the likes of Vortex or Wildrider, but at least the Decepticons had not left them behind in the dust. Everyone ran for their own life—but they ran together.

 _You fucking, fucking coward._

Except for one. Rachel dropped her head back on the cold stone outcropping they had discovered in the thick woods, remnants of a village abandoned long, long ago. Words and images and feelings pummeled Rachel's worn mind, but there was only one firm sentiment running through her mind.

 _**Coward** _ **.**

They had been aiming to sneak into a moderate-sized town to raid for supplies. The Transformers needed some spare car parts for Arcee and the humans needed food. They had not been expecting to run into a literal armada of drones. There were at least thirty of the creatures. The band of survivors was still recovering from their last encounter—a dangerously close one just last week—and the Transformers had not been able to regenerate their weapons. The remaining rounds had been used up quickly and the humans could not keep up a defensive position for long. They had to flee.

But there were too many. Every time she closed her eyes, Rachel could still see twenty red eyes gazing down with malicious intent. For the briefest moment, Rachel had thought, that this was it—that she was going to die. She had been naïve enough to consider the possibility that, this wasn't so bad. Death was probably the most consistent thing she had ever had in her life. At least they would die together.

Having taken cover behind the remains of an old auto-body shop, they prepared a last stand. Rachel had protested when Goddard suddenly grabbed her last two grenades right out of her hands and then grab Barn's flash grenade as well. She almost hadn't realized what he was planning until he turned to Jazz.

"I'll lead them north," he said to the Autobot, ignoring Barns' startled confusion. "Run to the trees and hide in the thickest parts. I'll keep 'em off you as long as I can."

And so, they ran. Thundercracker had grabbed the screaming Barns by the middle, and they had taken off. There was no way they would have gotten out of there without a distraction. Rachel had dared to look back one last time as the American soldier snuck around the building, behind the searching drones. It was quite beneficial that the forest ended so near to the edges of the town. She was still running, keeping pace with Jazz and Arcee, when she heard the grenades begin to go off, and then the startled screeches of the drones.

She wanted to stop and turned around. She wanted to fight with him until the end, because it felt right, because her heart felt ready to burst at the notion of otherwise—

But she kept running because that's what survivors did.

Wheeljack had taken Danny and took off with her until they reached the trees. The Transformers had to transform into their bi-pedal forms to be able to get through the thick ever-greens, which were the only trees that truly kept their leaves, even though they were all tinged brown. From there, it was a mad-dash through the trees, trying to keep low, Thundercracker practically having to crawl.

But they made it deep into the woods. There was silence, except for heavy breathing from humans and the groaning of mechs. Arcee was too injured to move, but not dying. Wheeljack began to tend to her injuries, but Rachel knew that even if no one was injured they would have remained in that spot for a long time, trapped within their own thoughts.

She was a survivor. Rachel never once doubted that fact. She had been a survivor ever since coming out of her mother's womb with a hailstorm of fighting going on around her. Even when her parents had been alive, Rachel knew that her first priority was always her own safety.

When they finally did die, her parents had died for themselves. Rachel had no bitter feelings toward them for that; when the drones attacked, you moved for your own life. She had just moved quicker than they had; she had just been luckier. Some nights, years after, drifting from camp to camp, Rachel mused what it would have been like to have died with them. She wondered if her mother's fervent prayers for a god were true, and they would have gone to heaven together. It didn't sound so bad.

Those thoughts evaporated the next morning, when Rachel awoke to her own version of hell, one called reality, where life and death were an exchangeable force and had no prejudice when afflicting lives. She had no time to dwell on an afterlife; she had to put one hundred and ten percent into living this one.

That was why she never got close. She never made friends. She never cared for anyone beyond herself. Because that was how she survived. She was a survivor, not a saint. Others could worry about themselves.

But sitting there in the damp dirt, covered in ash and grime, Rachel felt a strange sickness welling up in her chest. A disease. An illness she had thought she would never have to endure, because of the fact she was a survivor, because she never got close, because she only cared about herself.

Looking up, she saw Wildrider staring at her strangely, his optics shining the brightest red she had ever seen on his face. She stared back, trying to fight the sickness. It would weaken her. It would make her a victim.

She tried not to listen to Barnaby, who was sobbing into Danny's lap. The human girl was staring at the anguished boy in her embrace and then back up at Wheeljack, over and over, clearly disturbed by something. Rachel swallowed back at the sickness as Barn's crying agitated it within her chest.

"My heart hurts," Danny said abruptly. The way she spoke, it was almost a comical thing. As if she couldn't figure out an obviously natural thing that was happening to her, and she knew it.

Wheeljack tilted his head, his earfins flashing lowly. "It is called grief," he said quietly, voice tight.

Danny stared at him and then out at nothing. "Oh," she said, sounding far, far away, hand running absently over Barns' shuddering back.

Rachel wondered what sort of blissful childhood a person could have, that they never knew what grief was. To never lose a friend, to never have to fight that disgusting illness that threatened to overwhelm a heart in the face of one's own life or death.

They had made the choice. It was the right choice. Goddard had made his own decision and it was not up to them to call it right or wrong. They were alive. They should have been celebrating, because _that's what survivors did_.

She wondered how long she could keep telling herself that. At this rate, with these people…she didn't dare imagine.

Rachel closed her eyes, ignoring how her face was suddenly wet with hot tears. She ignored how she shook horribly as if freezing to death. She ignored how Thundercracker loomed over her, cupping her against him with his massive hand.

She told herself to ignore the universe and focus on the only thing that mattered: herself.

For the first time in a decade, she failed.

 _Introductions: Part Five_ end. _  
Part Six_ to follow.


	6. Introductions: Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fallout**  
>  " **Introductions: Part 6"**  
>  by Nan00k
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. **  
> Warnings** : character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery
> 
> * * *
> 
> We'll be moving on to the rest of the story, where each segment tells the story of these survivors at different points in their lives. I hope you all enjoyed _Introductions_!

_Northern Europe  
2049 CE_

That morning, Kass got up with two plans in mind: deliver her father his lunch while he was on guard duty in the front of the caves, and then find Kevin, who was hiding from his own chores to play with his robot friend.

Three days a week, Kass had classes with her mother to learn how to repair machines. She felt like a real adult, having just turned seventeen that December. Many of her other friends were beginning to take on real jobs. Kevin was her only companion that wasn't always busy with learning a trade, or doing errands. Then again, Kevin had taken it upon himself to be the unofficial guide for their alien guest.

Kass wasn't sure if she liked all the attention her brother was giving to the robot, but her parents had nothing ill to say about it. She still worried.

Which was why, as it turned out, she rearranged her itinerary she had received from her mother. Her father needed lunch, but her brother needed to be safe. She decided to visit the rambunctious teenager first, headed for where he had told her he would be, outside. Apparently, the alien was helping with the backdoor drilling and Kevin wanted to watch.

But upon reaching the end of one of the escape tunnels that led to the back of the mountain side, Kass saw Kevin, not outside, but instead the mouth of the cave, apparently hiding behind a stack of supplies. She frowned in confusion, but decided to make the best of the situation.

"Well, well, well," she began, enjoying how Kevin jumped in the air at least two feet at the sound of her voice, "look who I found."

"Jesus, Kass!" Kevin hissed. He turned around, shushing her. "If they catch me down here, they're going to kick me out again!"

Ah, so that explained the lurking in the shadows. "Ever think they kicked you out for a reason?" Kass drawled. She pointed lazily at the stacks of boxes he was hiding behind. "See those? Those are boxes of dynamite. They explode."

"No shit," Kevin swore. Kass glared at him.

"Watch your language, or I'll tell mum," she warned. "What, did the alien teach you that?"

Kevin grinned. "Are you kidding me? Blue doesn't even curse in his own language," he laughed. "The miners though, those guys swear enough to make Dad blush."

Kass rolled her eyes and motioned with her hand. "Come on, let's go," she said, gesturing toward the front of the cave. "I told mum I'd bring you back now."

"Come on, sis!" Kevin whined. He was holding something round in his left hand, Kass noticed belatedly. "I wanted to show Blue something!"

"What is that?" she asked, peering down at her brother.

Kevin reluctantly held up what Kass assumed was a pocket watch. The cover was intact, but when Kevin flipped it open, she could see the glass was broken and it wasn't running.

"Where did you find that?" she asked, surprised. Her brother didn't care much for mechanics.

Shrugging, the younger boy took the watch back. "I found it in one of your supply piles," he said, referring to the piles of old machines that survey teams had gotten from inside the nearby town. "I want Blue to fix it."

Kass frowned. "I could do that. Or mum." Why did he always have to go back for the alien?

"No, 'cause I want him to fix it for his time," Kevin said, grinning again. "I want to know how he sees time, 'cause it's apparently different than us, so I wanted him to make the clock read Cybertronian time."

"…you are so freaking weird, Kevin," Kass muttered, rolling her eyes. She held her hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright. Wait here like a stalker. I'm sure your boyfriend will be right along."

Kevin gaped at her in outrage and Kass laughed, moving away quickly before her brother could swipe at her. "You think you're so funny," he snarled.

"I am, Kev, I am," Kass replied, grinning. She waved, walking away. "Be back soon, though, or else mum's gonna come looking for you."

"Say hi to dad for me," Kevin replied, settling down against the rocks.

Kass sighed, waving in acknowledgement. She had no idea why her brother was so intent on spending every waking moment with the Autobot. She had met him once, along with the other mechanics, and she wasn't that impressed. He was nice, but still. He wasn't human. He wasn't interesting.

Taking a short cut, Kass made it to the front of the caves in twenty minutes. She waved at a friend who dashed by—a courier for the elders now—and set about finding her father.

A few men were always stationed at the front of the caves. It was standard procedure and a pure safety precaution. They generally stayed within the cave entrance, as to not attract attention from any lurking drones, but today, they had to move to the front. A large drill was being dragged from the bottom of the mountain and had reached the front of the caves. The lifters had taken a break and at least nine men were crowding the small entry. Kass spotted her tall, lanky father easily and moved to the front, where the cave opened out to the cliff.

"Hey, Kass!" her father called brightly. She smiled back at him and made her way over. She hesitated when she got closer to the edge, which hung out over the mountain slope. It wasn't that high of a drop…but it was still unnerving.

"Got your lunch. Mum and Kev say hi," Kass said, giving her father the parcel after they exchanged a quick hug. "How're things going here?"

Edgar Hall unwrapped the sandwich and began to eat, using the top of the stationary drill as a table. "Oh, I think we're making good time," he said cheerfully. He took a bite of the sandwich before continuing. "I don't envy the guys doing the lifting, but its more exciting up here than it usually is."

Kass grinned. "Well, I suppose that's a good thing."

"How's everything at home today?" her father asked, taking a bite out of the sandwich.

"Kevin's sneaking back down the escape tunnels to meet his robot friend," Kass replied dryly. She didn't fear the giant alien anymore, but didn't like the idea of her brother playing with the creature. He was gigantic and Kevin was tiny. It was a bad combination. "He's obsessed with that thing."

"Aw, let the boy have his fun," her father laughed. "And be polite. The poor mech isn't a thing, it's a he." Edgar paused. "I think."

Kass laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry. I prefer human company." The caves were big enough and her schedule was busy enough that she rarely encountered the alien, so it wasn't really a big deal.

"So are you picking up anything useful from those mechanic classes?" her father asked, almost finished with the sandwich. He was supportive of her learning her mother's trade, but he seemed a little concerned that Kass was just doing it for her mother's sake. "Is it fun?"

"It's fascinating, but maybe not what I'd call fun," Kass replied, trying to be honest. She liked being able to do something useful with her hands, but fixing old machines wasn't her favorite past time. She laughed, waving her father's concern away. "Hey, since when is a job supposed to be fun? If you hear about an opening in the arts, let me know. I'll be sure to sign up."

Edgar sighed dramatically, folding up his napkin. "The walls in this place could use a little freshening up," he joked, eyes laughing. "We could talk to the council about hiring some young aspiring artists to do some murals."

"Oh, sure," Kass replied, rolling her eyes. There were at least a dozen regulations concerning 'littering' and 'graffiti.'

"I'm serious!" her father continued, leaning against the drill. He smiled at his daughter. "I think it could be a nice pick-me-up for the rest of us, and it would give you some room to—"

Edgar stopped, making Kass pause as well. No one else seemed to notice anything, but her father turned around, frowning.

"Did you—?" he started to say.

Something shrieked and all Kass saw was a blinding flash. She screamed when something exploded in front of them. Rocks flew everywhere and Kass felt the tiny shrapnel cut into her face and exposed arms.

Everything began to slow down. Something shifted beneath her. The ground moved away from her and there was only empty air. And then the sky was falling—up, up to the stars.

Kass heard herself scream, but it was lost to a lot of other noise—her father shouting, people screaming, the drill hitting nothing but air and backfiring.

For a moment as she fell, she saw an eye. A red, terrifying eye that pierced through her very soul.

That was the last thing she remembered.

 **00000**

Bluestreak loved to help others, whether he was aiding fellow Autobots in combat, or doing mundane chores for his human hosts. It made him feel useful. Initially, he had no qualms about working on the escape tunnels that day. They wanted to fix some unstable sections of the tunnels and also, begin to add another. They had to work on draining the one, unfortunately, so Bluestreak volunteered to do the heavy lifting of pipes.

The bad thing was that he had also promised Kevin he would visit him today. The boy was very upset that Bluestreak had to work, but Bluestreak promised to visit as quickly as he could and they could go back to doing whatever Kevin had planned for. The boy was still upset, but agreed.

Now, Bluestreak wanted nothing more than to be with his friend, but he had his responsibilities. The humans at the camp had sacrificed a lot of resources to fix him as well as fuel him, so he felt obligated to do at least this sort of work. The humans he worked with were nice and they talked as they worked, making it a little more bearable. Some were still afraid of him, but at least the leaders of the group weren't timid.

"If you can grab the drainage pipes and move them back a bit, that'd be great. We gotta make room out here in the front," the man in charge said.

Bluestreak nodded. "Sure thing!"

As he bent low to retrieve the heavy pile, the others humans chattered and gave out instructions. _Primus_ , how he loved how they talked.

"We have to move the mining explosives," the one man said. He was young, but a brilliant engineer from what Bluestreak had witnessed. He made hand motions towards the tunnel they were working on. "They're blocking the exits and they're a safety hazard." Wise words.

"But what about the rain?" another workman asked, concerned.

The other man waved his hand, obviously not concerned. "We have the tarps. It'll have to do," he said, "I'm not going to leave a disaster like that waiting around."

Bluestreak listened into the conversations with only partial attention. Normally, he'd listen with rapt acuteness, but now, he wanted to hurry things up. He lifted the pile of pipes and began to walk over to the location he was instructed to go. A few more lifting jobs and the humans would call for a break. Then, he could go find Kevin and hopefully be able to spend some time with his small friend.

He was so intent on working quickly, Bluestreak hadn't noticed the small indication flashing on his HUD. He opened it and saw, to his horror something approaching on radar.

Small, quick, very, very precise beacons. They were too close.

 _No…_ Bluestreak whipped around, his optics huge. _No!_

The universe did not heed his pleas. His sensors had not been malfunctioning—because he could see them. The drones. Three of them, swirling overhead—diving low, for the caves. The humans never saw them.

"No…no!" Bluestreak threw the pipes away, dashing after the humans, who were startled by his cry. Bluestreak only had eyes for the tunnels. "D-DRONES! THERE ARE DRONES! GET AWA—!"

A spark-stopping explosion ripping from the tunnel. They had found the explosives—and set them off. Bluestreak found himself flying through the air, hurled by the shockwave—and then his processors went dark.

When he came online, Bluestreak thought for a moment he had still been in the prison cell, and the humans and Kevin and the last few months had been a dream—a dream like Kevin described every morning when they would eat breakfast together. But then, Bluestreak saw the sky past the debris holding him down and a bird fly by. He wasn't in the cell. He was outside.

 _Outside…outside with the humans, doing work—_

Bluestreak felt his spark go frigid, his processors skipping a disc.

 _No not outside, not outside—! There are drones, I saw them, there are drones, there are drones, they're going to kill everyone—they're in the tunnels THEY'RE IN THE CAVES GET UP GET UP—_

Bluestreak found strength he didn't know he had and threw the drilling machine from atop of his chassis. His body had been covered by the machines, so the drones did not pick up his electrical signature. But he wasn't worried about himself right now. The humans—they had been caught off guard like he had been. They had to have been attacked. He had to help them.

There was no one nearby. There was metal, twisted and burning, everywhere from the machines. Bluestreak heaved himself to his feet, panic taking over his processors. He had to get back to the caves and help his friends. The drones could swarm up dangerously and if they had entered through the back, the people would be especially caught off guard. He rushed up the incline, to where the escape exits were.

He made it up the top of the incline when he saw, to his dismay, that he was too late. The exits had been destroyed. Rocks had fallen from the corridor's ceilings and barricaded the doorway up. Bluestreak stared at the rocks that filled the humans' tomb, utter horror filling his spark. Trembling, he spun on his pedes and dashed down the mountain path. There were other exits—other routes and methods for escape. If he could find them and get inside, he could find the humans— _find Kevin_ —and get out of there. The drones might come back, if they didn't get all of their prey. And there was no way—no way that…

Bluestreak found another exit, but there was a fire raging. The drilling machines and their fuel were as good as the mining explosives. He ran on, but didn't find another exit. He ran the other way, trying to see through the smoke. His sensors were still so weak—the fire blotted out any heat signatures he would have been picking up. It occurred to him to check his chronometer then. How long had he…

Six hours. He had been in stasis for six hours. _Oh, Primus, no…_ Bluestreak swore and ran faster, jumping over a falling drill. His hydraulics in his legs flashed warning signs in his HUD from the injuries he had obtained from his fall, but he didn't care. He had to find the survivors. They might need him. If Kevin was with them, he would need Bluestreak to be there. And he would be there, the sniper vowed. He _would_ be there.

He couldn't get into the caves. All the exits he knew of were blocked off. Bluestreak stood back, helm tilted all the way back as he gazed up the smoking mountain slope. There had to be another way in! Perhaps, perhaps if he went around to the front, he could use that entrance. He didn't know exactly where it was, but if he walked around and climbed back up, he could figure it out as he went. The others must have gotten out through the front and he couldn't keep Kevin—

As he made his way down the hill and then started to go around toward where he could walk around the mountain's base— _Primus, this would take forever!_ —Bluestreak noticed something odd by one of the machines. From a glance, it was a doll, something some of the younglings carried. He didn't recall seeing any children out while they were drilling. He stepped closer, noticing the rusty-colored puddle it was sitting in.

Bluestreak didn't know what to make of it, though now he was concerned that there was a youngling hiding nearby. He stared down at the puddle, frowning. Something was wrong. The doll floating in the liquid didn't seem like the normal dolls that he had seen female human younglings carry around—but then, Bluestreak realized why it looked so strange.

It wasn't a doll.

It was a small hand holding a silver pocket watch.

Bluestreak stared.

A bird sang over in the treetops—

And Bluestreak realized he was alone.

 **00000**

Kass opened her eyes and saw the dirt. It was on her face, in her mouth, her nose—coughing, Kass sat up, gasping for breath. Everything hurt, but her head was the worst. Her hands found her forehead and she began to look for cuts or blood. Her fingers came away clean and she breathed a sigh of relief.

But then, without warning, everything came back to her.

"Oh, God, no!" she exclaimed, lunging to her feet. She ignored how her ankle throbbed and how her vision swam. Looking around, Kass saw she had fallen several hundred feet down the incline. She had rolled, thankfully, which was the only reason she was still alive. But she had to get back up.

Raw instinct took over her limbs and Kass found herself flinging her weak and battered body at the incline. It was too steep to try to walk up in her condition. She climbed, taking desperate gasps of air.

This was not supposed to happen.

"No, no, no, no, no," she whispered, growing louder with every breath. "No—no— _nononononoNONON_ O—!"

This could not be happening.

She clawed her way up the dirt and the rock, ignoring how her nails tore off painfully and how blood dribbled down her hands. She was not used to that sort of physical activity, but she climbed upward as though she were climbing for her life. She didn't care about anything—anything—else except getting to the top.

"FATHER!" she shrieked, her cries now becoming incoherent. She didn't know what she was saying, other than calling for her father, wherever he was. "DAD! DAD—ANSWER ME!"

She got to the top in—she didn't know how long it took her. She didn't care. She rolled onto the ledge, breathing heavily, and immediately looked around. She had to find him—and then they had to go get her mother and Kevin. They had to get out of there, before—

Kass stopped where she had been trembling. Everything stopped—her thoughts, her body, her heart. There was no noise, no air, no sensation, other than sight.

And it was then she saw everything.

There were no bodies. Not there. She saw limbs—a face on a jagged rock—and red, everywhere. Crimson seas, created in the hollows of the rocky surface. There were parts of machines everywhere. A dead drone hung on an over-turned barrel. More blood.

Her legs moved her forward and Kass wasn't thinking at all. She just moved on instinct, walking over the carnage, feeling and thinking nothing. She moved across the cliff and toward the entrance to the caves. More, more, and more blood. There was gray smoke drifting out of the caves. She took a step inside and waited.

There wasn't a sound. No fire, no bombs, no screams, no screeches—only silence fitting for a cave. The electricity had shorted out and darkness took over the cave's interiors, save for where small embers still burned. It had to have been hours since the attack. There wasn't any movement to be seen or heard.

The world moved like the smoke—cloudy and slow. Kass found her father's ring in a puddle. She picked it up and held it in her palm. It was as though she had picked up a burning coal. She tightened her fingers around it.

Kass looked up slowly, down the mouths of the caves. She thought of walking again, to go look, to find a survivor, to find her family. But she suddenly knew how Kevin felt, when he asked about their future; receiving words of reassurance, of optimism, or hope—

It did nothing.

Her legs crumpled beneath her and the jarring sensation made her head swim. She let her head drop onto the rocks and stared at the dirt. For a moment, she felt like she was falling again, down a hole she would never climb out of.

It didn't even occur to her that she had started screaming until she heard her own voice echo back to her over and over from inside the empty caves.

 **00000**

 _Northern Europe  
2049 CE_

Spring had come back to them, and so had green leaves. Not that many, but hell, Jazz wasn't picky about quantity. Whenever he moved through a forest or walked upon grassy sprouted hills, Jazz tried to avoid damaging the plant life. They were precious, after all.

Time had slowed down even more than normal in those last six months. Arcee had finally healed and could move on her own. She did, however, decide in the end to stay with their group. She had developed a fondness for the humans, just like Jazz imagined she would have. She was especially soft on Barnaby, who was still grieving the loss of his friend.

Everyone grieved the loss of Goddard, in some way, Jazz mused. They had only had a few Earth years together, but the man had become a friend in the same way the other humans had. He was loud and shameless, but always had an open heart. Jazz was always reminded of Ironhide when he saw the ex-solider get into a fight, or when he had to discipline one of the more rambunctious younglings. Jazz tried to hold on fast to those few, precious memories they had all made together.

The kids weren't younglings anymore, though, Jazz thought with a sigh. He watched Rachel climb the ladder of adulthood with such a surprising speed, Jazz almost forgot that time was supposed to last forever here. He didn't understand it. It seemed just like yesterday, he was dealing with a wild pre-teen—today, he was holding an intelligent discussion with her over the progression of repair the trees were undergoing.

It just wasn't fair. To have to let go of a friend—to let go of his youngling—all to circumstance or time. But no one could change it. They had to live with the consequences.

"Let's make camp, in say, th' next mile or two," he suggested, looking around their oval-shaped traveling party.

The humans nodded and the mechs agreed as well. Jazz had been keeping a close optic on Wildrider, whom he suspected was still struggling with the loss of Goddard. The 'Con was by far their least sane member, but he had formed his own unique bonds with the others. The humans no longer feared him and even the stoic Arcee would acknowledge his presence with a neutral tone (when he was behaving, that is). He would always push his limits, but…Jazz had been surprised when the normally hyperactive mech had begun to shut down a little as the time passed by. He would catch him staring out at nothing, or Wildrider would ignore a jibe by Rachel or Danny to play around with them.

Yes, they all grieved in their own ways. Jazz himself had been pulled down into melancholy, but he had to keep the others afloat. He pushed for smiles, for laughs, for jokes, and didn't stop until he succeeded.

But the laughs were forced and awkward…and strangely empty. There was a missing voice to add to the fray and everyone could sense it.

"Y'alright, mech?" he asked.

Wildrider sent him a side-long glance. A smirk appeared on his faceplates, but it wasn't a normal smirk for him. "Whatever do you mean, Autobot?" he asked.

Oh. And the accent was now gone. Lovely. Jazz grinned and kept pace with the larger Decepticon. "Oh, well, I just noticed you were lookin' a little down. Everythin' okay?"

Wildrider choked on a short laugh. "Oh, goody, the Autobot really does care about me." He leered, a flare of his old personality coming back. "How touching."

"I'm bein' serious, but if ya don't wanna talk, we don't gotta. Just…let me in, if ya gotta talk t' someone. Or anyone really," Jazz said, frowning. "Danny would listen. You like her, right—?"

"I did not feel it this time, but I did. Why?" Wildrider suddenly blurted.

Jazz almost stopped walking, but that would have attracted the attention of the others; the humans were all together in the front of the group with Arcee. He didn't want them to overhear their conversation now. "…Goddard?" he asked, quietly.

Wildrider didn't stop and he didn't look back at the saboteur. "When my brothers fell, I thought I was dying," he said, his voice strange. "My spark was in agony and my body rejected the loss of links physically." He shuddered and his voice seemed to only grow more and more distant. "But now, only my spark aches. Not as badly. But still."

He spoke with a deep rooted confusion present in his voice. He couldn't figure it out, what was making him hurt. Jazz stared out past the 'Con, knowing exactly how it felt, that pain. They all did.

"You lost a brother in arms. He wasn't yer species and used t' be yer enemy—but he wasn't at the time," he said, letting his eyes drift, speaking from the spark. "You saw him as a friend and equal and then had to lose him. Self-sacrifice no less."

"…How do you Autobots survive this self-sacrificing mine field? It's horrible," Wildrider muttered darkly. He tensed up. "It is too quiet now. Too quiet."

With a sigh, Jazz could sympathize. Without the missing human, things did seem kind of quiet around them. "Yeah, well, we'll get use t' it, 'Rider," he said, trying to reassuring. "We'll make new noise an'—"

Wildrider suddenly stopped and dropped into a defensive position. "No, I mean, it's too fraggin' _quiet_ ," he snapped, alert. "Listen!"

How the frag _Wildrider_ of all people noticed it first, Jazz had no idea. The mech was always surprising them with how detailed his awareness of their environment actually was. Jazz wouldn't want to take a peek at his processors; they were probably a constantly changing torrent that would make the obsessive-compulsive Arcee freak out.

But, he was right. Jazz stopped, and once he did, the others all slowed, each realizing the others were stopping. Jazz stood there, audio receptors turned to a higher level of sensitivity. Wildrider had been right; there was no noise, other than themselves. No birds, no other creatures—it was too empty.

"…What are we listening for?" whispered Barns.

Suddenly, Vortex made a small noise. He pointed to the northwest. "I see smoke," he said. His optics were narrowed as he seemed to be using his other sensors. "There is a large, but fading heat signature. Probably a fire."

Fires didn't start themselves and the amount of smoke Jazz was noticing now was alarming. He was curious, as were the others, so they changed directions and headed for the source of the fire. Jazz hoped that they would just find another refugee camp, one that had just made a camp fire.

He was wrong. Primus, he was wrong.

They approached the small mountain that was a part of the local chain. It was just tall enough that Jazz couldn't see the top. But what he could see made his spark sink.

Man-made caves. Machines. The smoke of dying fires.

"Aw, frag," he swore quietly. Louder, he turned back to the others and said, "It's a camp."

Rachel let out a heavy sigh. "Damn it," she muttered. She stared up at the smoke. "Do you think we should go look for survivors?"

"The fires are old," Vortex replied. His heat-sensors were easily next to Thundercracker's in quality. "I can't hear anything nearby."

"There still might…be someone," Barnaby suggested. He pointed vaguely upward. "Me, Danny and Rachel can go check it out."

Vortex immediately agreed to carry them up instead. Jazz wasn't too surprised. The Decepticon helicopter had changed yet again. He was louder, more vocal—but strangely subdued. He would listen and take advice. And he seemed intent on becoming closer to the humans. He had been the one to meet Barns and Goddard first after all. Perhaps he was feeling regret? Or was simply, finally, acknowledging that the humans were there with them?

Grief was strange like that.

Jazz watched as the helicopter transformed and allowed the humans to climb aboard. It was surreal, willingly letting a Decepticon have the fragile humans within his grasp. He could kill them so easily. And Jazz just let them go.

When had second guesses and doubts stopped mattering?

Everything was so strange, in this strange land, trapped on a strange, strange planet. Jazz watched as they flew up higher, to the cliff that broke from the mountain, feeling smaller and smaller.

He was a soldier. He was Jazz—he could adapt with, roll with, survive anything. He had grown up on the streets and rose to be third in command of an entire army. He had lost and gained and lost everything over and over, millennia after millennia.

And yet…forty years had made him feel as though he were as old as the Primes. He felt himself slipping further and further from what he had once known as reality, and he was now living a different one.

Where Decepticons were allies.

Where humans were family.

And trust—once so difficult to earn and share—was all that was keeping them alive in a world teeming with danger.

Wildrider had been right. They should have been getting harder. Instead, Jazz could barely remember his whole life.

This one was what mattered now.

Vortex returned about a half hour later, radio silent. The humans stumbled out of his hold, visibly shaken. All of Jazz's musings evaporated instantly, quickly overtaken by concern and worry.

"What happened?" Wheeljack asked, reaching out for the humans.

Rachel clung to the transformed Vortex, who crouched lowly over her. "It's a fucking mess," she croaked. Her eyes were shining as she looked up at the others. "Everyone…"

Jazz's spark dropped deeper. _Oh, Primus._ They really did not need this, not now. Everyone in the group seemed to withdraw. Barns just stood there, eyes hollow.

"They didn't stand a chance," Danny whispered. She leaned against Wheeljack's legs, eyes closed tightly. "God, that was awful."

"Setting a camp within a cave without an escape route?" Thundercracker said, scowling. "Foolish."

"Let's not berate the dead, hmm?" Jazz said, jumping in before there was an argument. He gently touched Thundercracker's arm and the jet seemed to pull back from his initial anger.

"What now?" Arcee asked quietly, glancing around at the others.

Jazz knew they needed to get out of there. The wounds were still too sore for them. "…I guess we move on," he said, meeting everyone's expectant gaze. An awkward thought came into his processors and he looked to the humans. "Did you want to, ah, see if they had any supplies?" _Harsh, mech, harsh._

Rachel shook her head firmly. "No. That would be grave robbing," she said. The others nodded in agreement. Shivering, the blond human shook her head again. "I wouldn't want to go in there anyway. It's a tomb."

Everyone gathered their things and started to walk away—far away, Jazz surmised. Arcee was talking quietly with Barns, sympathetic. The other humans remained quiet and the Transformers didn't seem to want to talk amongst themselves either. It was amazing how much the mechs—and femme—relied on the humans. They were the stable ones, the ones who didn't have to worry about _is this right?_ , or consider eons past.

All they had was _this_ , so they made the best of it. And when they did, the Transformers had the best as well.

Jazz felt Thundercracker step up behind them as they moved. They were toward the back of the group, so Jazz knew the closeness was intentional. His feet were suddenly heavy and bit by bit, they slowed. The others kept moving and Jazz knew they would stop soon.

"Are you alright?" Thundercracker asked quietly, his voice as loud to Jazz's processors as what the jet was named for.

Jazz stared back at the jet, his mind whirling. When had it ever come to this?

"….Not…really," he admitted quietly. He smiled, despite how his spark burned. "But we're getting there, right?" He leaned closer to his friend, trying, trying, trying to stay afloat. "We'll bounce back." They always did.

Thundercracker rumbled lowly and gently touched his hand to Jazz's helm. Jazz smiled back.

Yeah, they'd bounce back. To what, he didn't quite know.

They started walking again, after the group, who had waited patiently for them to catch up. Jazz found himself talking and chatting soon; Danny never let it get quiet easily either. They had a long road to make before the cloud hanging overhead lifted.

But they could do it. He knew they could—as long as they were together.

 **00000**

She had no idea when or how she started walking, but Kass didn't care. She had nothing, save the clothes on her back, and she was walking briskly down the pathway that led away from the caves. There was nothing back there for her now, so she would move on.

Because that is what her mother would say. You had to move move move move or else you died.

Because that's what her father always told her. You don't stay still you get up and move.

Kass had no idea where she was going now. She had no path, no destination—no future. There was no way she could survive alone in that wilderness. Perhaps she should have scavenged for supplies back at the camp—

No, she thought. There was no way she'd be able to move around all the bodies. She had seen enough. _No more_.

There had been no hope of finding a survivor, unless they had been like her, saved by circumstance. Once the drones found living creatures, they did not stop. They would have scoured the caves and found everyone. Kass had gone as far as the emergency exits only to find that they had been destroyed. The drones, as her father predicted, were smarter than they looked.

She had no one to find.

So, she left. She had no destination, no plan—no hope. Inwardly, she wondered if walking would help her decide. But for now, walking was the plan.

Walking was all she had now.

Daylight faded to dusk and soon, Kass could barely see the path in front of her. There wasn't a path, in fact. All there was were open fields of grass and a darkening forest. Anything could have been lurking in those trees—drones, wild animals—

She didn't care. She just didn't anymore.

That's why she wasn't too scared when she saw a gray robot come stumbling out of the forest ahead of her. It was beaten up from what she could tell, but absently, her eyes went to its chest.

 _"The bad guys have a purple, pointy face, but the good guys have a red one."_

It was red, the face. Belatedly, Kass realized this was the alien from the camp, the one she had fixed up. Huh. Small world.

The alien had been distracted by his surroundings for a moment, but as soon as he noticed her, his expression changed from mild nervousness to a strange mix of hope, fear, and horror. Kass stood still, swaying from all the walking she had done earlier, as he approached, shiny-blue eyes— _the lights reminded her of eyes_ —wide with apprehension.

"You're from the camp," the alien said, stopping just feet from her. He was shivering, like he had been in the Hall when she worked on him alongside her mother. He was far less wounded, but just as shaken.

Was she imagining the relief in his voice?

"You're the alien Kevin would always talk to," Kass answered. Had her voice always been that hoarse? Been that flat? "Blue…Blue something."

The alien withdrew and then leaned in further, speaking fast in a panic. "Bluestreak. You know Kevin?" Bluestreak didn't stop to let her answer; he just babbled on. "Is he okay? I was going to look for him, but I got stuck on the other side of the mountains—"

Kass had no reason to give the alien hope when she had none herself. "Kevin's dead." Her words hit the alien like a brick to the face; he flinched backwards, stunned. "He was hiding in the escape tunnels, waiting for you." Images of the crushed tunnels flashed in her mind and her lungs stopped working for a moment. "Everyone's dead. I'm only alive because I fell down the mountain."

"…That can't be true," the alien said. He looked near speechless, but his sheer panic and hysteria overrode that. "N-not everyone could be dead. There were two hundred and twenty-nine humans living in the camp, you can't all be dead." He made a move, but hesitated, to start walking past Kass. He shook his head at her, shaking even more now. "You can't. I—I'm going to go help them look—!"

He started to turn, but Kass stopped him with only her voice. "I already looked," she said. She sounded so cold. So empty. "The drones killed everyone or set everything on fire." Bluestreak stopped and was just staring at her. Kass stared back, trying…and failing…not to remember what she had seen. "The caves…only went back so far. They were killing families who were trapped in their homes."

Set on fire, with bullets raining over them, flesh torn from bone—the drones had no mercy. They trapped people like mice in their cages. Their homes had become their tombs. They had no chance.

Kass looked over and saw the alien was staring at her. He looked confused, but also heartbroken. A light of hope still glimmered in his eyes. He still thought there was a chance. Kass stared up at him completely and extinguished the light.

"Kevin's dead," she said.

The alien stared at her with a mixture of horror and utter sadness. Kass stared back at him, feeling her word shrink down to that single face.

"Kevin's…dead," she said again, her voice dipping into a harsh, firm tone.

Kass took a deep, shuddering breath, hot tears streaming down her own face.

"My baby brother's dead," she whispered, tilting her head back to stare up at the dark blue sky, the twinkling stars.

Everyone was gone.

"I want my mummy," she sobbed. Her feet sprung to life and she was walking now, faster than before. She moved right past the alien and just walked. "I want my dad and my brother, but they're dead," she gasped. "Everyone is _dead_."

She had found her mother, or what was left of her, lying in their bedroom.

She had found her father's remains on the way out of the cave.

There was nothing to be found of Kevin. Only bloodied rocks.

Kass sobbed as she marched through the tall grass. She wanted to find them—join them, wherever they had gone. She wanted to die with them, like she should have—

She almost didn't notice the heavy footsteps following her. She didn't have to turn around to know the alien was following her. Why, she didn't care. She didn't care about anything any more.

They walked on into the dark night. Kass' tears finally stopped but she was wallowing in despair. She had no idea what to do. She just wanted everything to end.

Her mother would have slapped her. But Kass didn't care.

Bluestreak had been quiet for the length of time since they started walking again. Kass almost forgot he was there, until—

"I miss my creators too," he stated. He sounded sad, but strangely, he kept talking. "They died in Praxus—you don't know what that is, but it's my home city back on Cybertron—when Megatron ordered a missile strike. Everyone died, except for a few of us Praxians." Kass tried to imagine a city of robots but lost the picture to thoughts of severed limbs and drying guts. "I only met a few in my different units, so it was really just me, Smokescreen, and Prowl. You'll probably never meet them, but they're good guys, though Prowl can be a little cold, but that's just his personality."

Kass took in more deep gasps of air. She stumbled in the grass over a root, but they kept walking. She wondered where to.

"You know, most of us are like you humans, with different personalities," Bluestreak continued. "I remember meeting a human before getting captured and he thought we were like machines, like computers, where we didn't have feelings, but boy was he wrong! I was so amazed when I met all you guys at the camp, because you already knew about the Transformers. I mean, you knew more than that soldier did, but maybe not a whole lot more. Kevin always asked me questions about the Autobots, but I always thought it was more interesting listening to him talk about you guys. I remember him saying—"

And he kept talking. And talking. And talking. Kass stumbled through the haze of his words, trying to keep up and block him out all at the same time. Bluestreak stopped, probably because she was not reciprocating the conversation.

She lasted a minute.

"Bluestreak," she said, trying and succeeding to remember his name. Her voice carried through the night air like a wisp of smoke.

The Autobot seemed more withdrawn "…Do you want me to be quiet?" he asked, his voice soft, careful, apologetic—knowing.

He knew what she was feeling. He knew the pain of loss—the loss of everything.

Kass took a deep, long breath.

"…Keep…talking," she whispered, as they entered another part of the woods, past a small creek. She didn't look at him, but for the strangest moment, all she was concerned about was him talking again. "Just keep talking. Don't stop."

"Talking about what?" Bluestreak asked, surprised.

"…Anything." Kass clenched her eyes shut before they started to burn. "Just…don't let…it be quiet."

Because quiet would leave her room to think. Because quiet was all she had heard once she got back to the caves. Because quiet was a sound of _death_.

She heard gears whirling. "Okay," Bluestreak said at length. He sounded more interested as he continued to speak. "Do you want me to you about the time I met Mirage and we had a shooting range competition? It was intense! But a lot of fun, and there, I met Prowl and Bumblebee. Prowl kind of scared me, but that's okay, 'cause he was my boss and probably the closest thing I had left to family. The after party was crazy too! Ratchet threw a real fit…"

He talked and talked until the words became the drumming rhythm keeping her moving. Kass closed her eyes as they marched across the open, flat field, letting the caressing leaves of grass and the inane words fly her away.

 **00000**

 _Northern Europe  
2049 CE  
_

Hope needed kindness. Without knowing kindness, who could ever know to hope for something better? Danny knew what both were. She had received kindness as a first memory. A creature, not even from her own planet, gave her love, care, and safety. When times grew dimmer with the grim realization of despair, Danny knew how to hope for something better. She wasn't a scientist like Wheeljack, or a math genius like Barnaby—but she knew she hoped because she had received kindness first.

The day started out like any other, but ended with a miracle. No lives were saved, no wounds were healed—but Danny had done what she had always wanted to do.

She took the hope she had received as a child—and gave it to someone else in need.

They were just about to break camp that morning and Danny wanted to wash her face in the nearby creek. Wheeljack wouldn't let her drink the potentially polluted water, but it wouldn't hurt to rinse real quick. As the others finished up breakfast, Danny walked to the short path down the embankment that lead to the creek. She had expected to see water, a ravine and not much else.

She had not been expecting to step out into the ravine and be staring directly into two other faces.

A woman was standing opposite of her, in a half-seated-half-upright pose, clearly having been caught in the act of moving. Danny stared back, equally stunned to have found a human in the middle of nowhere. There wasn't anyone else near her either, so she was traveling alone. In this wilderness? That was nuts!

But then something did move behind her, and briefly, Danny felt like screaming. It was big—as big as Wildrider—and it stood up and it—

—was definitely _not_ human.

"Holy _shit_!" Danny shouted, stumbling backwards. The Transformer was gray with darker gray stripes on his side. She immediately looked for a sigil. She knew for a fact that some Decepticons could be nice, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

The other woman flinched away and the Transformer—an Autobot, if its sigil meant anything anymore—also seemed to hesitate. Danny stared back at them and had no idea what to do.

"He won't hurt you," the woman said almost immediately. She held her hands up, as if Danny were the large and dominating alien. She had a strange accent, different than Barnaby's. "H-he's not—!"

The poor lady had no chance to speak, because without any warning, Vortex and Jazz came charging out into the clearing, responding to Danny's initial shriek. She could hear Wheeljack's heavy and distinctive footsteps close behind them, but the woman and the new Autobot didn't care too much about him or Jazz, much to poor Vortex's misfortune.

"DECEPTICON!" shrieked the Autobot. He stepped away, flailing in fear.

Vortex had only a second or two to look utterly confused before the Autobot raised his hand-turned-into-gun and fired at him. Danny screamed and dropped the to the ground as the gunfire started. She could hear Jazz shouting something, but she was a bit more concerned about getting torn to pieces. Her breath caught when someone picked her up— _maybe Wheeljack?_ —but she only dared to look up when the firing mercifully stopped with the sound of two mechs colliding—and hitting the ground hard.

"Are you alright?" she heard Arcee's hurried voice. Danny looked up and saw it had been the tiny bike who had grabbed her. Danny wilted in relief at being alive.

"Yeah, thank you," she replied. Arcee gently let her down on the ground and Danny looked around the scene before them.

The new woman was cowering by the tree at the edge of the river and, from this angle, it looked like Jazz had the new Autobot in a full body grab on the ground. The Autobot was wailing in Cybertronian and Jazz was shouting answers right back at him.

"Fragging, good for nothing, twitchy-fingered _Autobots_!" Vortex snarled. He had hit the ground too, apparently. His shoulder was torn and bleeding, but otherwise, he looked okay.

"You okay, Vortex?" Danny asked, shaking from the adrenaline rush. Man, it was _way_ too early for this.

Vortex bit out curse after curse, but finally acknowledged he was okay. Probably just got scared, Danny mused. By that point, the others had rushed into the scene and were equally baffled.

"What happened?" Rachel exclaimed. She gave Vortex a cursory glance and then looked over at the now limp-Autobot and Jazz, who were still rapidly conversing in their alien language. Rachel arched an eyebrow. "And who the hell are those guys?"

"An Autobot and a human refugee," Arcee answered. She rolled forward, eyeing the still-cowering woman with sympathy. "We must have frightened her."

Danny could see the other human trembling fiercely, still not looking up from her fetal position. Barns walked up beside Danny and the two exchanged glances.

"She may trust another girl before me," he suggested, smirking wryly.

"Oh, sure, dump it on me," Danny complained, though she was half-joking. Rachel was busy ogling at the new mech, so Danny took it upon herself to approach the human. After all, Danny needed practice talking with her own kind. She didn't mind meeting new people.

The new girl did seem to mind and when Danny walked closer, the girl—yes, she was a girl, Danny mused, probably their age or a little older—whimpered and drew further in on herself.

"Hey," Danny said, reaching out and then thinking better of it. Instead, she crouched lowly, speaking carefully and calmly. "Hey, miss? Are you alright?"

The girl said nothing and Danny frowned. Metal sliding against metal made them both jump however, and Danny could see Jazz and the new Autobot were untangling themselves finally. The new guy was clearly on the defensive and backed up considerably from the others once he was able to stand.

"Now, everyone, be calm," Jazz began, holding his hands up.

The new mech turned out to be a bit of a talker. "Wh-why are you defending the Decepticons? You're an Autobot! You're an Autobot officer!" the gray mech chattered, interrupting the other Autobot. He didn't recall his weapon, but he seemed terribly frazzled. "I-I thought we lost, so how could we have a truce?"

"Bluestreak, th' war is over, but nobody won," Jazz said calmly, frowning sadly. He motioned behind him. "Now, you said you'd listen, so listen. They ain't gonna hurt you, or your friend."

Bluestreak, as he was called, was not reassured. He glanced over at where the girl and Danny sat and then back at the other mechs and humans. He looked torn between going to the girl's side or fleeing.

"K-Kassandra, are you okay?" he implored, choosing the former option. He didn't turn his back on the other mechs, however, and kept shooting a nervous optic their way.

Danny turned to the girl—Kassandra—who had uncurled far enough so that Danny could see her face. It was a gaunt face, with dark circles around her eyes and dirt smeared everywhere. Her eyes were haunted, but they sought out Bluestreak when he called out to her. She stared at him, trembling ever more now. She nodded, the movement almost unnoticeable.

"Your name's Kassandra?" Danny asked, making the girl jump. Danny smiled, regardless. "My name's Danielle, but everyone calls me Danny for short. I'm a human, too."

"She never could have guessed," Rachel deadpanned. Danny sent the smirking young woman a scowl.

Arcee rolled forward, toward Kassandra. "Are you okay? Do you need help to stand?" the Autobot asked. Bluestreak tensed, but Arcee just met his frightened gaze with a calm, neutral look. "I am Arcee. I am also an Autobot. We mean you no harm, either of you."

"H-how come you're working with the Decepticons then?" Bluestreak demanded.

"I hate giving this talk," muttered Vortex. He stood and was over with Wheeljack, who was already administering first aid. Danny had to agree; every time they met another mech or human, they always had to explain. They had a running joke about how many different variations were possible to give the information. Jazz got points off if he used the same excuse twice in a row.

Jazz ignored the 'Con and focused on Bluestreak. "Our respective armies have essentially collapsed, Bluestreak. We're just trying to survive and our best option is to work together," he explained. "I know it seems strange, but we've been travelin' together, collectively speakin', for nearly a decade. You don't really think a group of Autobots, Decepticons _and_ humans could willingly travel together otherwise, could you?"

"…oh." Bluestreak's posture slowly uncoiled and he stared in open confusion now. "But…they're _Decepticons_."

"And you're an _Autobot_ ," Thundercracker said, sarcasm ringing in his tone, making Rachel snort. "Glad to have finally nailed this down. Excuse me, I'm going to finish my breakfast." He turned to go back up the trail to their camp, leaving Barns, Rachel and Jazz laughing. Poor Bluestreak didn't look any less confused.

Arcee was far more sympathetic. "Come, we will explain in detail," she said, motioning up the embankment. She looked over at Danny and Kassandra. "Will she come, too?"

"Kass?" Bluestreak asked quietly. His eyes glowed softly and he seemed nervous about what Kassandra would say. The human acknowledged him, but...

Kassandra stared at Bluestreak before looking away. "I want to stay here," she whispered. Bluestreak wilted, but said nothing more.

Jazz glanced at Danny and Danny waved him away. She could handle the single human. He nodded and began a grandiose story for Bluestreak, who listened with rapt attention, of how the group formed. The talking lessened as they got further away and soon, all Danny was hearing was the gentle rush of the creek. The girl beside her said nothing and seemed intent on drilling holes into the ground with her eyes.

Sighing, Danny braced herself for a long, difficult conversation. Then again, the others rated her just after Jazz when it came to "sweet-talkin'" her way into someone's business. _Might as well give it a go…_

"So…what's your story?" she asked. Not the smoothest of entrances, but this girl didn't seem like she'd cave to casual conversation.

Kassandra looked over at her slowly. "What?" she asked. Her voice was dull.

"You heard about us. What about you and Bluestreak?" Danny prompted, trying to get the other woman to speak. She couldn't stand watching someone look so miserable. "How'd you guys meet?"

For a moment, Danny thought Kassandra couldn't understand her, because she kept giving her a blank look. But thankfully, after a few seconds, Kassandra sighed.

"…People at my camp…they found him in a Decepticon jail," she explained, looking out at the river. "We fixed him up and he lived with us ever since."

"Oh." Danny didn't know why, but suddenly, she felt nervous. "You're from a camp?"

Kassandra didn't even flinch. "…Was." Her voice was hoarse.

Something cold swept through Danny's body. She stared at the morose young woman, apprehensive.

"…You…were in the caves?" she asked, though she wanted to just leave it alone. Oh, God…

Kassandra looked up at her this time, eyes just slightly wider. "You saw the camp?"

"Yesterday." Danny swallowed hard. _This poor girl. "_ I…I am so sorry, Kassandra. I really am."

"…Thank you," Kassandra said, her voice just above a whisper. She looked away, at the water. "We must have just missed you guys when we were leaving. I…had fallen out of the way when the drones attacked. Bluestreak said he got knocked out, so he escaped too. We're….the only survivors." She closed her eyes before dropping her head to stare at the ground. The hollow despair in her voice was heartbreaking.

"I am so, so sorry," Danny said again. She had nothing else to say. Words failed her.

The two lapsed into silence and Danny was forced to just watch Kassandra, who was staring at the ground with the steadiest gaze Danny had ever seen.

"So, what are you guys planning now?" she asked quietly, trying to distract the young woman carefully. "Are you traveling together?"

Kassandra shuddered slightly. "I have no idea what to do," she whispered. "My family is dead. My home is destroyed."

"So is mine," Danny said. Wheeljack had only found her mother, but Danny had never known her to really miss her. Instead, Danny smiled, pointing behind them at the others. "But I made a new one." She meant it to be a positive thing.

Danny missed it, but something must have snapped in Kassandra's mind. Shivers turned into harsh shudders, and the stoic face evaporated into horrible, heart wrenching tears.

"I…I miss my mum," Kass sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "And my dad. And my brother." She hunched over in her grief. " _So_ much."

Oh, how Danny could sympathize. Six months ago, she wouldn't have been able to. But that was before Goddard sacrificed himself for them. She had never known grief, never having anyone but Wheeljack to call family while growing up. She had thought meeting the others would have had the same effect; blissful, undisturbed family life.

But she was wrong. She had learned, through their tragedy, that death is impartial and life could be cruel. Yes, she knew grief now, and she hated it.

She stared at the pathetic form before her and knew that a few months ago, she had been in the same place, full of tears, regret and despair. Everything was bleak and there were no smiles.

But she remembered hope. She hoped for a better day, and it came. She hoped that her weary friends could find something to smile about, and they did. She hoped that, even if they were torn from each other at a future point, that the memories they made together now would stay forever.

"…Nobody can bring back the dead. All we have are memories of them." Danny met Kassandra's bright red eyes openly. She remembered what Wheeljack had told her in comfort and while it made little difference at the time, she grew to understand those words. "Cherish what you have left of them. Never let them die in here," she said, pointing at her heart and then her head, "because then, they're with you forever."

"I…I'm just so lost. I have nowhere to go," Kass said, crying. She covered her face with her hands, shaking. "I've lost everything."

Danny stared at her and realized what she had to do. Reaching over, she took Kassandra's bloodied hands into her own and looked her directly in the eye. Kassandra stared back in uncertain surprise. Danny smiled.

"No," she said. "You can't lose everything, because there are things that you can't lose, unless you give them away first." She tightened her grip on Kassandra's hands, her own body shaking now. "Death can take everything from you—everything but two things, Kass. Love…and hope. The drones can kill us. They can kill our families. They can take away everything…except the love we have inside our hearts, and the hope that things will get better." She smiled, holding back her own tears. "Because neither of those things are a physical thing to take, break or burn. They're within us, and until we decide to give them away to our abusers…no one can touch them, but us."

Kassandra was sobbing again, but she leaned forward, into Danny, who willingly let the girl cling to her. Her hands wrapped around Danny, as though she were the only thing keeping her afloat now. Danny closed her own eyes and patted Kassandra's back, trying not to think of how she had been doing the same thing for Barnaby just a few months ago. Instead, she went over the words she had just spoken and realized, she too found peace in them.

 _So this is what Wheeljack felt when he found me_ , she thought, opening her eyes to see Kassandra's sobbing reside slowly. _This is what it's like to teach someone to hope._

Danny smiled, cherishing that knowledge, that she too could change a life.

"…If you want to…you could travel with us," she said quietly, letting Kassandra pull away.

The girl was wiping her eyes furiously, breathing heavy. She gave Danny a strange look, one mixed with hopefulness and confusion. "Where are you headed?" she asked.

"No where and everywhere," Danny said with a grin. "We just move, you know? Staying still attracts trouble, so we just walk. We see so many pretty things."

Kassandra looked to the side, unconvinced. "Everything is so brown out here," she murmured, running a hand through the still-dead grass.

Danny smiled, despite this. "That's only because you're not looking carefully enough." She pointed over to where the others were standing, talking with Bluestreak and sending concerned looks their way. There was green grass growing above the ravine.

Kassandra stared at the grass and was silent for a while. Danny let her think, knowing the choice would not be easy. Her mind and gaze wandered as well. She thought of how things were before and how much they had suffered.

It was depressing and equally ironic to Danny that if she had not experienced the tragedy six months ago, she would not have known what to tell Kassandra. Smiling quietly, Danny realized that perhaps, even beyond the grave, her old friend was still ready to help them.

 _Thank you, Goddard._

Danny looked over and saw Kassandra was staring at her, her eyes wide and shining.

"…You guys…wouldn't care if I joined you?" she asked. She hastily added, "And Bluestreak, too?"

Danny grinned again. "No one would say no," she assured her. "We all found each other, you know. No one ever decided that we would travel together. It just kinda happened. And I'm okay with that, and so will they, if you decide to go with us." Danny sighed, but still smiled, feeling oddly relaxed now. "We've all lost so much, but together, it's not so bad."

Because even when they lost Goddard, and even when things seemed so dark and sad—Danny woke up to the others and they woke up to her. Conversation and time mended the wounds and, even for the ones not yet closed still, Danny knew that they would move on.

All because they had each other.

Danny urged Kassandra to stand and go over to the others, where Jazz seemed to be waiting for the inevitable. As they walked over, Danny noticed Kassandra was not hiding like she had expected she would. Instead, as they approached the larger mechs and femme, Kassandra seemed to grow taller. _Huh._

At the feet of the others, Danny motioned for Kassandra to speak. The dark haired woman stepped closer to Jazz, correctly picking him out as the spokesperson.

"I…want to go. With you," she said, her eyes bleary, but her voice stronger than it had been. "Thank you."

Jazz's grin all but broke past the edges of his faceplates. "Welcome t' th' group, Kassandra," he said warmly. He nodded over at Bluestreak, who was also smiling. "Looks like you and Blue made th' same decision. Awesome."

Kassandra hesitated. "Just…call me Kass, please," she requested. Danny nodded; she could do that.

Wildrider chuckled, walking past the three. "Another little human," he chortled. Danny smiled to hear the accent come back. It suited him. "Ve are outnumbered again, yes, Decepticons?" he joked.

Bluestreak tilted his head, stepping up behind Wheeljack. "You already were. There are three Autobots—well, four if you count me—and four humans," he said, confused. "There are only three of you."

"Don't include me in that," Thundercracker growled. He was still seated comfortably on the ground, energon cube half-drunk. "I went neutral a decade ago."

"Oh. Well, two Decepticons then!" Bluestreak amended, surprised. Danny and Barns laughed. This guy was adorable.

Wildrider laughed; Kass jumped, not used to the crazed sound yet. "Who is counting numbers?" he barked. He slid down another tree and sat, grinning up at the others. "Vell. I see eleven."

"Of what?" Kass asked, nervous. She was apparently brave enough to speak directly to the Decepticon, something Danny admired immediately.

"Survivors," Barnaby said, smiling gently.

Kass stared at him with open surprise. Danny's smile expanded. The others, feeling better about approaching the newcomers, greeted the human and the new Autobot individually.

Vortex, having made general greetings of his own, decided to bring up their next problem. "Where to now?" he asked. It was a common question for them, given they had no destination, other than to keep moving.

"Let's go south," Rachel said, pointing in that direction, as they got ready to begin their walk that day. "The weather is so nice down there in the summer."

"Ooh, let's hit up a cruise then," Jazz said, cracking up when Wheeljack and Thundercracker both sighed and shook their heads at him. Danny had no idea what he was talking about, so she figured it was just another lame joke.

She loved his jokes. She loved being able to laugh at them, being able to share them with the others. Grins appeared and laughter broke out as Jazz continued, talking aimlessly about cruises and how he'd heard they were the most exciting thing. Bluestreak would fit in nicely, given that he almost naturally burst into the conversation and talking as if there were no tomorrow.

"Oh, Primus…he's not going to shut up, is he?" Vortex groaned. Laughing, Rachel patted his leg sympathetically.

Bluestreak seemed oblivious to Vortex's problems with his chatter and talked on and on. Danny _definitely_ could get used to that.

Glancing to the side, she saw Kass was walking quietly, but she was alert. She was listening to the conversation. Rachel had begun to talk to her and Vortex at the same time and Wildrider joined in at some point, throwing his nonsensical comments around, irritating Vortex, making Rachel laugh—

And then, Kass smiled. Danny grinned, her heart feeling as though it would burst.

She had no idea what was going to happen to them next. Every day was a new challenge, a new adventure, a new mystery to solve. There would always be danger—she accepted this a long time ago. It didn't make getting up any easier, but what did was the knowledge that when she got up, she wouldn't be alone.

Without a word, she reached over and rested her hand on Wheeljack's leg. The inventor looked down at her, his earfins flashing a myriad of colors, his optics smiling. Danny smiled back at him. She looked back and saw the others, taking in every quirk, every smile, every frown, every moment shared and exchanged—

And they walked on, together.

 _  
**Introductions**   
_   
**end.**

 **Next** : The mechs discover a new use for their hands. And a new found hatred for rocks.


	7. Under the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Fallout**  
>  "Under the Rain"_  
> by Nan00k
> 
> Timeline wise, this is happening only a year or two after Introductions, so the humans are still in their late teens.
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Lower Germany  
2050 AD_

Barnaby was honestly surprised by their run of luck. Of course, they had their fair share of misfortunes and dangers thrown their way, but he, being an optimist, saw the good parts first. They had food (canned supplies taken from towns), shelter (giant alien robots who turned into cars) and friends to help and protect each other (also giant alien robots with large shoulder cannons, though the humans helped each other, too.)

Times were changing for all of them, however. He was eighteen and he considered himself an adult, with adult concerns (surviving the downfall of his species) and adult problems (how to successfully tell Danny to stop staring at his ass without coming off sounding rude himself.) Unlike many adults, however, Barns _liked_ problems.

Yes, Barns was a problem solver. He enjoyed puzzles and conundrums and always enjoyed a riddle. But the things he liked to solve most were practical problems, and boy, did they have a lot of them in their group.

Like, when Vortex and Bluestreak had another argument (or rather, when the innocent Bluestreak pushed Vortex unintentionally to the point of violence), he would simply distract Vortex by asking complex questions about aerodynamics. The proud flight-enabled Decepticon would immediately be distracted by the conversation and forget about why he wanted to rip Bluestreak's vocalizer out.

There were times when rations became scarce and the humans came to a battle of polite will, with no one wanting to let the others sacrifice for them. Barns would calmly remind them to just split everything evenly until they reached another town. Sometimes, circumstance such as illness or injury made one of them more in need of sustenance than the others and, using calm logic, Barns was able to convince the injured survivor to have a larger share.

Given that they chose their direction of travel majorly at random, Barns rarely had to intercede on any map problems or the like. They moved like the wind, anywhere they chose. Barns liked it like that, even if he had nothing to solve.

But every so often, he was delighted to see they indeed had a problem—not with direction as much as the path. Today was such a day.

They had been traveling to the east a little, toward the edge of Germany's borders, when they came across a large mountain pass that would have led them in the direction they wanted to go that day. It was almost all rocks there and, at first, there wasn't a problem. But as they continued to walk, they discovered that there was little natural cover in the area. They were literally walking in the open—and that was always a bad move if a swarm of drones were to spot them from the air.

While taking cover near one of the last large sections of rocks before another eerily empty plain of open land, the group of eleven survivors tried to come up with a solution. They were aiming for the forest further into the mountain pass. The rocky plains would have led them eventually to the edges of the trees, but it would take far too long, and it had no cover. Barns, tuning out the others who were discussing their options, looked around at where they were. There were rocks and not much else. None of the Transformers could afford to waste fuel by driving (or flying) at this point and the only way they could get that needed energon would be to get to the organically rich forest below _first_.

Quite the conundrum indeed.

"What about the little passage here?" Barns asked, pointing to their right. The rocky plains jetted off at a somewhat steady slope. It was like a large stone staircase that went all the way down to the forest. "It's not very large, but we'll be much more covered than we are right now."

Jazz tilted his head, staring at the path. "Hmm. That might have to do, guys," he said, scratching his metal chin in an oh-so-human way. "It'll be quicker down the pass, too."

"You have to be joking," Thundercracker growled. He stared down at Jazz and Barns, who had suggested the path before them. "I'd have to walk sideways!" So would Wheeljack, Barns mused.

"It's th' quickest way t' th' woods," Jazz replied. He expertly hid his teasing grin from his mate. "Look at those clouds, TC. It's gonna be rainin' soon and we can't have th' kids out in that."

It didn't take much for Jazz to convince Thundercracker of anything; both mechs appreciated each other as partners, but Barns knew that anyone could see how Jazz had Thundercracker "wrapped around his little finger." Thundercracker was immensely lucky Jazz only used that to tease him, and not for other reasons. Eventually, as always, Thundercracker gave into Jazz's plans and agreed to go down the path. The others agreed as well, although apprehensively.

It was a very tight fit. The humans had no problems getting through the rocky ravine and neither did the slim, compact Arcee. The larger mechs, however, had to be very careful walking around the rocks, and for Vortex, Wildrider and Bluestreak, their bodies were almost shoulder to shoulder with the rocks. Poor Thundercracker and Wheeljack had to walk ahead in case they fell as they moved sideways down the tricky, rocky staircase.

They made good progress, much better than they would have if they had gone the long way down. But as it turned out, something went wrong. Barns had feared it would turn out this way, but it wasn't like he or any of the others could have stopped it.

The first big drop of water hit Barns on the head and he paused to glance up at the sky. The light gray clouds that had been forming earlier were now much darker. Daylight was fading, even though it was only the afternoon. Withholding a sigh, Barns shook his hair (which was desperately in need of a cut, he thought absently) and waited.

It didn't take long for the rest of the sky to open up and droplets to be thrown haphazardly all over the rock passage. The sounds of the water hitting the Transformers seemed extraordinarily loud.

"Not good, not good," murmured Danny. All of them seemed to have had the silent understanding that they had to move quickly and picked up speed.

That wasn't the best option, especially considering the mechs had to often keep looking for footing in the small environment. It was after Bluestreak slipped and slammed back into Jazz (scaring the unprepared humans silly) that they all had to stop, fearful of a domino effect of mechs falling. Getting back up would have been…difficult.

And then, as if picking that particular moment in time to really screw things up, the skies opened completely. The group almost had no warning when the heavens unleashed their fury in a torrent of water.

" _Christ_!" he heard one of the girls shout as the downpour began. It was amazing, how quickly the water appeared. Soon, it was impossible to see more than fifty feet ahead of them.

"Let's go, let's go, getting wet," Wildrider chattered. He detested the sensation of water for some reason and was not keen on being out in the open during a rainstorm.

Thundercracker and Wheeljack were moving as quickly as they could, at their awkward pace. "We're trying," Thundercracker growled back.

Barns knew it was a lost cause. Accompanying the rain from above was a small stream of water descending from higher up on the stairs. The humans sloshed through the new puddles, quickly growing wetter and wetter. It was far from being a summer climate and the fear of pneumonia was never too far away.

"Slag—!" he heard Vortex curse. There was a harsh sound of metal slamming into the walls of the rock surrounding them and Barns felt the earth tremble. The Transformers all had excellent traction under normal conditions, but Vortex had managed to slip on the wet stone.

Wheeljack stopped, turning his head toward the commotion, concern shining in his optics that blared through the murky air. "The rocks are too wet to continue," he said, speaking louder than normal to be heard of the downpour. "The chances of slipping and falling on the wet surfaces—!"

"'Jack, we gotta get out of the rain!" Danny interrupted. Barns had to agree, even though he was very concerned with the possibility of one of the mechs slipping again, either crushing the humans or getting stuck, or even hurting themselves in the narrow passageway. Perhaps this had not been the best course of action to take.

Jazz, from in front of Bluestreak, agreed. "It's too cold fer them," he added.

"Transform then," Rachel said, trying to cover her head with her bag. "If we can't move forward, then we have to get out of the rain at least here!"

"Aw, shit, it's too cramped," Jazz cursed. He was pressing against the rocks with both arms, undoubtedly measuring the distance. "Not good, guys."

Thundercracker growled. "There is _no_ way I can transform in here," he said. The jet was correct; he was massive even when he was in his bi-pedal mode.

"I can," Arcee said, doing so. The little bike seemed to wilt in front of the humans "…Not much use, though," she added reluctantly.

Not even the rather compact Wildrider or Bluestreak could transform between the slick and cramped rocks. Meanwhile, the rain only seemed to increase, coming down in heavy sheets.

"We're getting soaked!" Kass cried, trying to use her backpack as cover.

The situation did not look good. The Transformers could tolerate a little water, but the humans were always at the mercy of the temperature and weather. Barns watched as a worried Bluestreak hovered over Kass.

Suddenly, Barns was inspired. He whipped around, looking up at the taller mechs. Jazz, with his claws, and the short Arcee wouldn't be good for this, but… Barns grinned.

"What are you doing?" asked Vortex, seeing the human rushing in closer to the mechs. They were already close due to the narrowed pass.

Barns had a plan. "Hold out your hands," he instructed, demonstrating with his own body. "Keep the fingers together and hold them over us. Stand closer together, keep your hands together."

The mechs (he could barely see their expressions through the torrent of rain) stared down at him for a moment, clearly considering what he was telling them to do, before Jazz and Bluestreak did as he instructed, Jazz amused and Bluestreak confused. The other mechs stared for a just a second longer and finally followed their example. While they couldn't form an exact circle, the mechs were able to form one long line down the narrow path, keeping as close together as possible. By hunching slightly and keeping their arms still, Barns' plan worked. He sighed in relief as the hands formed a shelter over his head and the rain stopped beating down on his face. Blinking away raindrops, he turned to the other humans, grinning.

"Care to join me?" he asked. The hands of the mechs had formed a long dome under which Barns stood, cold, wet, but no longer rained on.

Danny, Kass, and Rachel stared at him in disbelief before practically dashing forward for the cover. Shivering and gasping, the girls took off their bags and stood in the shadows of the mechs, stunned, looking upward at the arrangement. Rain still got through, but at least it wasn't pouring down on them anymore. Barns leaned back against Thundercracker's leg, cheerful.

Kass gave him a wide-eyed but utterly serious expression. "…You turned giant robots into umbrellas," she said.

"I'm a genius," Barns replied without a hitch, grinning.

"Wait…" Vortex began, catching on. He was stuck in between Wildrider and Bluestreak. He glared down at the humans, angry. "You want us to stand like this? For how long?"

Very used to the Decepticons and their non-gentle appearances, Barns wasn't affected. "Until the rain stops, obviously," he said simply, motioning at the sky, which was unleashing the torrent even still. "The wetter and colder we are, the more chance we have of catching an illness and dying a slow, horrible death."

Vortex opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he wanted to say strangled in his vocalizer as he thought better of whatever he wanted to say, and he only glared at Barns instead. The other mechs (Arcee wasn't much use giving them cover, so she decided to stand off to the side, watching the humans curiously) fell silent as they obediently stood over the humans. While clearly uncomfortable, the mechs had to have realized he was correct, and despite some of their rougher personalities, if Barns had learned anything about his alien friends, it was that they didn't really want the organics to die a slow, horrible death.

Wildrider growled, but stayed in position. "You owe me car wash, little humans," he said, one optic smaller than the other, mimicking the human 'stink-eye' look. Barns grinned back at him.

"Yeah, yeah, save it," Rachel muttered. She shook her damp head of hair, sending droplets everywhere. "Goddamn, it is freezing!" she cried. She and Danny were always sensitive to the cold. Barns himself wasn't too chilled yet, but there was no telling how long this rain was continue.

"What now? We can't start a fire," Danny said, shivering. "Too wet, no plants..."

Jazz looked around, contemplative. "There's gotta be something you guys can warm up with," he said.

"I can use cannon," Wildrider offered. He cackled when the others glared at him in exasperation.

"We should huddle together," Kass instructed the humans. She took out her pack, grimacing at the wet condition of her supplies. "Let's get all our blankets."

Thundercracker dropped down the extra supplies he carried for Rachel and soon, all four humans found themselves crowded together on a higher rock that escaped the river of water draining from the top of the passage way. Barns would have been embarrassed to have to stay so close to three women like that, but survival was more important than social awkwardness. (Then again, Danny seemed quite intent on practically laying on top of him, so it did get a little awkward.) Barns sighed, resigned to wait the storm out in their less-than-comfortable situation.

However, once the humans settled and tried to warm up, everyone seemed to fall silent. The Transformers were kind enough not to give up their covering, but seemed uncomfortable just standing there, braced against the walls of the passageway. Barns bit his lip, trying to think of a way to fix this new problem.

"So…" he began gustily, "what do you guys wanna talk about?"

Jazz and Wheeljack laughed and that seemed to deflate some of the stuffy atmosphere.

"How about not freezing to death?" Rachel suggested through gritted teeth. She was shivering violently now.

Barns chuckled. "Too obvious. Let's try something better." He thought for a moment, trying to think of something constructive. _Ah…_ "My grandparents, they used to use games to keep my mind busy when we were stuck somewhere. Want to try one of those?"

Wheeljack tilted his head, the gesture barely visible through the cracks in their Mech-Ceiling. "…What kind of game? We can't move," he said, curious.

Frowning thoughtfully, Barns gazed around their tiny section of the valley and considered his options.

"I spy something…gray." He smiled brightly up at the others. "What is it?"

The silence that followed made Barns want to laugh, but he kept a straight face.

"Are you _serious_?" Rachel demanded, laughing. She, at least, understood. Apparently, so did Kass, who was giggling quietly.

Danny and the Transformers, however, hadn't a clue. "What does _that_ mean?" Danny asked, baffled.

"Everything is fraggin' gray!" added Vortex. "We're stuck between two walls of rock!"

Bluestreak was more genial about it. "What's the point of the game?" he asked. He glanced down. "Oh, and is it me? I'm gray. Actually, so is Jazz, and Vortex has some gray parts—"

"No, it's not you," Barns said, patiently. He smiled at all of the curious mechs and femme. "The point is to spend time trying to figure out what the other person is looking at."

While most of the Transformers appeared to be a little more enlightened, Bluestreak still didn't seem to really understand what he was talking about. "You're looking at me," the younger mech said, frowning down at the human.

"No, Blue," Barns sighed, smiling wrly, "I meant, what I was looking at when I decided that I was looking at something gray."

"…Oh." Bluestreak's optics seemed to dim. "According to my recent memory logs, you were looking at Danny's backpack," he said, smiling brightly, accomplished.

Aghast, Barns crossed his arms, ignoring how he made the girls yell as he let cold air into their tunnel of blankets. "That's cheating, Blue!" he cried. "No video logs!"

"…You record shit?" Rachel asked, now shocked and defensive. "Why?"

Danny was confused again. "What's 'logs' mean? Trees?"

"It's our memory," Wheeljack explained, amused. "It's…comparable, visually speaking, to human film clips. Like human memories, we can recall the experiences we've had in the past. I can only assume our ability to retrieve the files is a bit more detailed than your own."

Kass made a sound of disbelief. "That sounds way more complex than what we can do," she said, frowning. "We can recall memories too, but nothing that detailed. The little things like what someone was looking at get lost to other, more important details."

"Inferior processors," Vortex sneered.

Thundercracker growled. "Shut it."

"Great. Every moment of our lives is being recorded on Robot TV," Rachel said, sarcastic. "My mom said they used to do stuff like that when we still had television, where they'd record random people's lives and show them off for the world."

Jazz laughed. "A new reality TV series. I can see it," he said, clearly enjoying himself. " _Coming this fall: the lives of sentient robotic organisms, lost in the wilderness with only four organics to survive. Will they make it_?"

"Oh, my god, _stop_ ," Kass moaned, even as everyone else laughed. Danny and Bluestreak were still terribly confused.

"I'm just going to pretend I know what you're talking about," Danny murmured.

"It's stupid, don't worry," Rachel replied, patting her arm.

Barns would not give up there. "So," he began again, "I spy something red. Go for it."

Vortex groaned as if in pain. "Primus, are we really going to do this?" he asked unhappily.

"Yes," Barns replied, trying to get the grumpy mech to join in. "Give it a go, Vortex." Vortex glared at him and said nothing.

"The Autobots' sigils?" asked Wildrider, butting into the conversation. Of course he would enjoy the game.

Barns grinned. "Nope."

"Vortex, TC, or Wildrider's optics?" asked Rachel.

"Wildrider!" offered Danny cheerfully.

"Kass's scarf?" Jazz asked.

"Nope, Danny got it. It was Wildrider," Barns said. Danny cheered, making the others laugh. "Okay, one of you guys go."

Jazz, as expected, was very much aware of how to play these kinds of games. "I see something brown," he said. Thundercracker groaned, and Vortex didn't look amused either, but the others all seemed to be getting involved.

"Perhaps it is Barnaby's hair?" Arcee offered.

"Nope."

"How about my hair?" Danny asked, pointing at her head.

Jazz shook his head and Bluestreak was all but jumping. "What about Barns' eyes?" Bluestreak suggested.

"Right!" Jazz said, laughing when the younger mech cheered. Barns smiled, happy that at least someone people were enjoying the game.

"Your turn, Blue," Barns said, looking at the sniper.

"I spy something yellow!" Bluestreak exclaimed immediately.

"Rachel's hair," Vortex all but muttered.

Bluestreak almost dropped his part of the mech-ceiling, he pouted so badly. "What? How did you guess so fast?" he whined. Kass, while laughing quietly, patted his leg in sympathy.

Not sympathetic in the least, the helicopter snapped, "It's the only thing yellow anywhere near here."

Rachel frowned up at them. "My hair is _blond_ , not yellow," she said, running her hands through the messy mop of hair on her head.

"Whatever," Vortex growled. He was still not relaxing. "I'm tired of this stupid game."

"I have others," offered Barns cheerfully.

" _No_ ," the helicopter growled.

Danny perked up. "We could have a sing-along," she said, excited. She loved her music and was quite the vocalist.

"Yeah, that could be fun," Jazz replied brightly. The two of them were so alike when it came to interests.

Rachel made a face. "Count me out. I can't sing at all," she said.

Vortex all but threw a fit. "No singing!" he snapped angrily. "Not when I can't get out of range of hearing that _noise_."

"We can make up our own song!" Danny continued, giggling.

"This is not the best place to be teasing a giant alien," Kass deadpanned. She scooted further from Vortex, who was becoming angrier and angrier.

Wildrider cackled. "Ooh, vhat if ve dance, too?" he said. He laughed even harder when Vortex took a swipe at him, and when Wildrider ducked, rain was let in through the gaps in the ceiling.

Well, that was enough to spring one of the humans into action. "Favorite place and why," Kass shouted. She poked Barnaby in the chest, glaring. "Well? Go!"

"Uh…I loved this one place in Switzerland. It was high in the mountains, and there were still flowers," Barns said, rambling. He tried to think quickly. "I enjoyed it a lot, because of the colors. I had never seen so many together at once in the wild."

Kass nodded. "I loved this one area of the camp, where there were all these stalactites hanging over and in a small pool that formed whenever it rained." She smiled faintly. "I loved it because it was so pretty. When you brought a candle in, it made the whole room sparkle, like a night sky."

For some reason, this new game, if one could call it that, seemed to calm the group down. Vortex was still glaring, but at least he wasn't violent. Even Wildrider was listening carefully. Without much need for prompting, the others fell into talking, as if that had been the plan all along.

"There was this club, in Iacon," Jazz began, grinning fondly. The saboteur would often entertain them with stories of what Pre-War Cybertron was like. "The music was great and there was always a party goin' on. I met quite a few nice mechs there." He sighed, wistful. "I can only hope they're still alive, somewhere."

"Figures you'd be a club enthusiast," Wheeljack chuckled. His earfins were bright against the dark sky. "The days of my youth were often confined to either a lab or the Academy. I loved both places." He paused, thinking. "Though, I do suppose the library in Iacon was one of my favorite locations. It was very quiet there."

"Bahh, who needs quiet?" Wildrider asked, grinning. "Gestalts vere made for var, yes? My brothers and I, ve lived for fight. Training rooms, I enjoyed them." He tilted his head, the grin softening somewhat. "Though…living quarters veren't too bad. As long as Motormaster vas not angry, time there vas…pleasant."

Rachel smiled. "I don't have a favorite place, really," she said. Barns was grateful she had stopped shivering now. The blond-haired woman sighed. "I traveled around too much to get attached to one place."

"Nothing stands out to you?" Arcee asked, curious.

"Nah," Rachel said, shrugging. "I've seen pretty places, ugly places...I don't have a favorite."

"I loved that one area we were at a few weeks ago," Bluestreak said, cheerful. "You remember, the one field where we saw the deer? The mother and baby deer?"

Kass grinned. "Yeah. You were quite happy to see them," she said.

"Of course!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "I'm just so glad the life forms here are starting to build back up."

"Same here," Jazz said, smiling. He looked over at Thundercracker. "What about you, TC? Favorite place and why."

"Cybertron. Anywhere there," the jet replied, without much emotion. "It was our home. There isn't really any other reason."

Wheeljack sighed. "Understandable," he said.

"I miss Cybertron as well, but I was particularly fond of a base I was stationed at about a hundred Earth cycles ago," Arcee said, quickly catching the attention of the others. She was often very reserved, so her willing involvement in talking about the past was rare. "It sticks out in my mind because of how calm everything was. We received no real trouble from the Decepticons and, while there were no sentient species on that particular moon, the flora was very beautiful."

"It's the little things like beauty that really make the difference," Barns said, smiling at her. "They catch our hearts first."

Danny stretched, ripping the blankets from the others either on purpose to annoy them, or accidentally. "I liked the first city I remember going to," she said happily. "Because there, Wheeljack let me play on the swings and it was so much fun. I remember being so excited for something new."

Wheeljack looked at her fondly. "Yes, I remember that," he said. "You were also ecstatic to use the slide."

"I don't remember that," she said, thoughtful.

"Well, you did end up scraping your knees on the ground at the bottom, "Wheeljack replied, almost embarrassed. "I did not think to catch you."

Rachel burst out laughing and Danny looked shocked at this revelation. "You'd think I'd remember _that_ more than the swings!" she said, giggling.

Everyone laughed. Slipping away from the conversation, Barns leaned back and stared up at the imperfect wall of hands above them.

They were still there.

Barns smiled quietly to himself.

The mechs…hadn't moved.

Huh.

The sound of rain hitting metal finally began to lessen and soon, Barns could see lighter gray sneaking into the dark clouds. There was more light and less rain.

"Hey…" Jazz said, looking upwards. "I think it's stoppin' now."

"Thank Primus!" Vortex snarled. Barns would have thought the helicopter had wrenched some gears the wrong way with how fast he yanked his hands away from the others, letting a few sparse raindrops down onto the humans.

Arcee scowled. "As if you were forced to ever do much more for them," she said coldly. "Even after all the times they have vouched for your character."

Vortex snarled at her. Barns quickly stood, trying to avoid the budding argument. "Well!" he said. "Let's get going, in case the storm comes around again!"

Carefully, the mechs managed to back off each other and make room for the humans to stand and grab their gear. The rain finally became a drizzle and soon, Barns barely felt any raindrops at all. They moved through the rocky pass, careful of remaining puddles and slippery stone steps. Finally— _finally!_ —they reached the bottom of the pass and found themselves at the beginning of the trees. It was a relief to not only be on earthy ground, but also covered by something other than rock.

As they walked through the trees, headed who-knew-where, Barns found himself sliding up next to Vortex, who was still seething. Barns realized it would be good to defuse the volatile mech before something else went wrong.

"What is your favorite place, Vortex?" he asked, smiling up at the Decepticon.

Vortex scowled. "Not a rock passageway," he growled out.

Wildrider, walking past Vortex and Barns, leaned over, laughing. "Are you kidding?" he said. "That vas fun!"

Barns sighed as the two Decepticons clashed (well, Vortex just tried to slash at the smaller 'Con, and Wildrider dashed off, cackling.) It was to be expected. He was honestly surprised they lasted the length of time that they did. In fact, he was mildly proud of what happened that day. Who knew he could get three Decepticons, four Autobots, and four humans stuck inside a gully and have everyone escape unharmed? He was sure _that_ was an achievement.

They made camp in the forest, all exhausted, wet, and cold. The girls immediately changed behind Wheeljack's large van form and Barns was left to make the fire. The warmth was heaven.

"Hey, Barns?" asked Jazz. He and Arcee were using the organic materials the humans had quickly scavenged (mere plant and fungi) to make some energon for the other Transformers and themselves.

"Yes?" he asked, glancing at the silver 'Bot.

Jazz was smirking. "If you ever find another short cut that's smaller than _we_ are…let's go th' long way, hmm?" he asked wryly.

Barns laughed. "Where's the fun in that?"

Kass and Rachel answered him by dumping their soaking-wet blankets onto his head.

 _Spoilsports_.

 

 **_Under the Rain_ ** **end.**

 **Next** : Wheeljack does science. Not everyone is happy about this.

 


	8. Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack lives up to his legendary status as "inventor extraordinaire." The humans are amused. Most of the Transformers aren't. This will be split up chronologically at different points, with some before Goddard's death and some after.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Invention #10,4551  
Human-Sized Concussion Blaster_

This was a rough planet. Wheeljack was surprised at how lucky he had been so far in his own travels. He had weapons because, despite his status as a science officer and the occasional medic, he had to be prepared to defend himself. Jazz and Thundercracker were both equipped with weapons that far out-classed Wheeljack's own.

Wheeljack had never expected the need to arm their remaining two companions. Danny was generally very peaceable and calm. She detested violence. But he had seen her reaction to a survival situation in their few encounters with drones, and knew she would feel safer with a weapon. He had resisted the idea until he met the other three.

Rachel was a startling example of how different humans could be. She had none of Danny's dislike for violence. In contrast to Danny's mostly peaceful childhood, Rachel had apparently been brought online with "a grenade already in her hand," as the child proudly described. She knew the need for violence, having to grow up in a rough camp life in addition to being exposed to multiple drone attacks.

But even still, Rachel did not have a weapon. She lamented this often, and after every scrape they got into with their enemies, she'd point that fact out to her self-proclaimed guardians. Thundercracker seemed to agree with her that she and Danny needed to eventually obtain weapons. Jazz and Wheeljack were more difficult to convince.

Human weapons were plentiful, either in wreckages of old camps or even in cities, in ammunition shops that had been left standing. But only a few actually did damage to the drones. Jazz was far more wary about letting the humans use some of those weapons, which he described as either ineffective or "too dangerous" for a thirteen and fourteen year old to be using.

So, Wheeljack sat down one day to come up with a simple, but useful tool for the children. Jazz wanted something that the children could use only in defense. The risk of the kids accidently harming themselves or others was still too great, even if Rachel and Danny assured him they were ready for such a responsibility.

His design ended up being a concussion blaster. Jazz and Thundercracker were both, at first, enthusiastic for the invention. It would only emit a non-lethal blast that would throw their enemies away from them via sonic percussion. While still potentially dangerous to the humans (their ears and other organs were particularly sensitive to sound), it was probably the least dangerous thing Wheeljack could come up with.

After months of scavenging mechanical parts and implementing various Cybertronian designs, Wheeljack had a prototype. He handed the oblong gun ( _safety on_ ) to the eager Rachel, who offered to test it first. Danny watched carefully. Both girls were amazed by the hybrid device.

"So, it's like, stable an' all?" Jazz asked, as he, Thundercracker and Wheeljack watched Rachel and Danny examine the exterior form of the blaster.

Wheeljack smiled behind his mask. "For testing purposes, it should hold up just fine."

"As long as they can't vaporize each other, I think we're good," Thundercracker said. He sent the scientist a frown. "That's the only function, correct? The sonic blast?"

"Indeed," Wheeljack replied, nodding. "The blaster will grant them both themselves and us a sense of rel—"

—without any warning, an echoing blast resounded throughout the woods. Several birds hiding in the barren treetops flew away in terror. For a moment, Wheeljack thought the worst had happened and the weapon had somehow managed to backfire on its user. All three Transformers had dashed to where Rachel and Danny had disappeared to. As they entered the other half of the clearing, he could see a still-smoking, circular hole in the upper parts of the trees where the blast had struck. Wheeljack immediately saw Danny was all right, but where was—?

"That was _AWESOME_!" Rachel cried, standing with the concussion blaster in front of her with both hands gripped to the handle. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and mirth. "DID YOU _SEE_ THAT?"

Jazz and Thundercracker stared down at the tiny femme, stricken with both fear and alarm. Upon seeing the children unharmed, Jazz all but collapsed in relief. Thundercracker quickly recovered control over his emotions and resumed his generally irritable expression.

"What the _frag_ were you _doing_?" the jet demanded, stalking toward the humans. Danny shrunk back in fear, but Rachel ignored the huge mech, eyeing the blaster in her hands as though it were some sort of miracle of Primus.

"This is the coolest thing I have ever seen! Holy shit! Do you see that hole?" Rachel laughed. She grinned up at Wheeljack, ecstatic. "I thought you said this thing repelled stuff, not blew it up!"

"Yeaaaah, 'Jack, I thought that, too," Jazz said, turning on the scientist. His voice and attitude were neutral enough, but Wheeljack could see a cold glint shining in his optics. His body posture screamed the hidden irritation the smaller mech was feeling.

Sensing he was cornered, Wheeljack held his hands up in defense. "I assure you, it is just a sensitivity problem," he said. A few tweaks, and it would be significantly less…dangerous. "…And I suppose I should fix the safety fixture."

"What if she had been pointing that at the other human? Or one of us?" Thundercracker demanded angrily. He glared down at Rachel and Danny, who were ignoring the mechs now and were ogling at the weapon, chatting excitedly.

Jazz frowned at the scientist. "He's got a point, 'Jack," he said. "I mean, if you can lower it t' th' level its supposed t' be, then okay, but _Primus_ , that thing is lethal."

"It will be fixed. Trust me, I would not willingly let either Danny or Rachel have something so volatile," Wheeljack replied firmly. "Perhaps, once they are older and develop a stronger sense of responsibility, we could expand on—"

A second blast ripped their attentions away from that conversation and the hysterical laughter that followed made Wheeljack realize that _maybe_ it was a little early to be arming the children.

His fellow Transformers were unsurprisingly not amused. " 'Scuse me, gonna go stop my youngling from terrorizing th' local squirrel population," Jazz growled, walking toward the gleeful humans.

"Little rodents anyway," Thundercracker muttered, shaking his head.

Wheeljack sighed; his talents weren't going to waste on this planet, but he was sure he had had better test audiences. _Ah, well._

 **00000**

 _Invention #10,4555  
Human-Sized Plasma Grenade_

Inventing a weapon was easy. Getting one to work was a completely different story. Wheeljack knew that law of inventing quite well. He had seen his fair share of successes…and disasters. For the most part, his adventures with creating human-based inventions had worked out well. Sure, there were a few miscalculations here and there, but he had a pretty clean record so far while concerning his newest clients.

That said, he had no problems accepting Goddard's request for more firepower. After several years of practice— _and talks of responsibility_ —Rachel and Danny mastered the use of the concussion blaster. When Goddard and Barns arrived in their midst, the need for more weapons appeared as well.

Goddard had the sense to mention creating small, compact offensive weapons that really could not be misfired. A grenade would be the most logical choice.

Creating the device had been the easy part, really. Wheeljack only had to slightly modify the build of the Transformer's own plasma grenades. Goddard had already been schooled on the uses of such weapons, but he agreed to take the introductory lessons Wheeljack would provide them on how to properly use the grenades.

They were practicing throwing that day. Poised at the top of a ravine, the humans would take turns practicing their aiming and throwing. The charges were much weaker than usual, but the children still got a thrill when one of them went off. Wheeljack was hesitant to use live bombs, mostly because of the noise it would make that could attract enemies, but Danny, Rachel, and Barns needed to be acclimated to the loud noises of warfare (especially Rachel, who had a terribly quick trigger-finger when a loud noise startled her).

In the end, Barns had the best throwing skills and Goddard was already an expert at handling the weapons. Rachel was a quick learner, but couldn't throw quite as far as the others. Danny was last up, considering she was still a bit timid to use anything that could be dangerous. Wheeljack assured her many times that as long as she followed the instructions and aimed away from anyone but her opponents, she would be okay.

Danny sighed and finally got into position to start throwing. She followed Goddard's example of rearing back with her arm before aiming to hurl the grenade forward toward the bottom of the ravine where the others had landed. The grenade flew up into the air—

…and then drifted several feet past and to the left of where the testing area was supposed to be. Wheeljack started to say that it was alright and that she could just try again—

Until the grenade promptly landed on Vortex.

Danny and Rachel screamed and Barns made a horrible strangled noise that definitely did not sound good. But Wheeljack himself was feeling very much horrified. Blowing up teammates was not a good way to test out experimental weapons…!

"What the slag— _PRIMUS_!" Vortex snarled, hurling the bomb away from him after he caught the falling orb. He took several steps backwards, eyeing the grenade with a reasonable degree of apprehension. "Are you all _insane_?" Wheeljack was surprised the device had not gone off.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, Vortex!" Danny shouted, looking petrified. She scrambled over the ledge, ignoring Wheeljack's own startled sputter. All of them followed her over to where Vortex stood rigid. "A-are you okay?"

"Was that a live grenade?" Thundercracker demanded, as he and Jazz approached the sound of the humans' panicking.

Vortex stared at the unresponsive grenade and looked ready to murder something. Or someone. "Why the slag were you throwing grenades around like that?" he demanded. He finally decided it was safe to move and he quickly stomped past Thundercracker and Jazz toward the other side to the clearing. "Idiots!"

Wheeljack crouched over the grenade and ran quick scans of the device. "…Oh. No worries, Vortex. It was a dud anyway," he said brightly, looking over at the helicopter.

The poisonous glare he received told Wheeljack that his reassurance meant little. The howling laughter from Wildrider told him that maybe this hadn't been the best idea ever. Next time, they would use rocks, and the humans would just have to adjust to the loud noises in the actual battles.

"I like them, Wheeljack," Barns said to comfort him after Vortex, Thundercracker, and Jazz kept sending the inventor dark looks. "We just need to practice with our throwing."

He hesitated. "Or, let Danny keep the blaster."

Wheeljack sighed. "Perhaps that might be the best option."

 **00000**

 _Invention #10,456  
Human Flight Suit_

"Why?"

"Well, besides the creative usage of science and the possibility of hybridizing human physiology to that of a mech—"

" _Why_ , Wheeljack?"

"It would aid them significantly in a fight," the scientist sighed.

"By placing them on th' same fraggin' level as th' drones?" Jazz snorted. "Yeah, sure, 'Jack. Brilliant plan."

Wheeljack had toyed around with the notion of solitary human flight ever since he had seen the humans first move around in a combat situation. They were far more agile and nimble than he or any other Transformer could hope to be. Sure, they lacked the efficiency of a mechanized body, but they had tools to help them. They normally could not have their agility and those tools at the same time, however. One day, Wheeljack could not help but wonder: "What if I could give them _both_?"

He and Jazz had discussed it thoroughly throughout the last few years and only recently had the saboteur begun to cave to the idea of testing a revolutionary flight suit on one of their human companions. Goddard had been the prime candidate for the first testing—he was the sturdiest of the humans, as well as the most mature. He could handle testing out previously unknown technology.

However, after the adolescents caught wind of the whole thing, they wanted in on it, too. Rachel and Barns especially seemed intrigued by the concept of flight and begged Wheeljack to have a chance to pilot the device. Jazz was not happy about letting the humans near anything that could potentially hurt them, but he didn't deny he was intrigued by the concept. The flight-enabled Thundercracker and Vortex also seemed particularly interested.

So, finally, after months of planning and two years of scavenging for parts, Wheeljack began to build what the humans called, "Peter Pan Shoes," although they were five parts total and none of them were shoes. Two went around their ankles and another two on each elbow region. A centralizing pack went on the back. All five parts provided alternating sources of lift for the human wearing them. In theory, it would flatter their natural agility, but only on an aerial level. The prospect of success was thrilling.

But life, as it turned out, had other plans for them. Goddard was killed before Wheeljack could let the eager man take a look at the prototype flight suit. Wheeljack almost couldn't bring himself to look at the devices that rested in his subspace. They reminded him of lost opportunities—lost time. It took him almost a year before he finally took the mostly-finished parts out to look over. Things had gradually been improving when a curious Barns reminded him of the project.

With Goddard gone, Wheeljack was worried about who would be doing the first tests. Danny wanted nothing to do with it, surprisingly. While she enjoyed mechs over humans, she was terribly afraid of heights. Kass, new to the group still, was timid about the idea of using alien technology and passed on the opportunity. Barns and Rachel immediately volunteered, but in the end, Rachel was chosen for the first flight, after she and Barns did some strange human ritual of choosing a victor between two uncompromising parties (something about rocks and scissors) and Rachel won.

It took a lot of convincing (some even in Cybertronian) to get Jazz and Thundercracker to stop looming over Wheeljack in irritation as he helped Rachel put the parts onto her body in the correct places. The other humans and Transformers watched with keen interest. The potential of having another flier was exciting for some of them; while going too high in the air was dangerous, the wilderness and abandoned landscapes required as much flexibility as possible sometimes. Rachel and Barns wouldn't have been able to move the Transformers, but it would help out with the small things.

All eyes and optics were on Rachel as they cleared a small circle around her. The controls were a bit more complex than the concussion blaster had been. A small control panel was attached on the inside of her wrist and Rachel could manipulate it in her palm. At first, Wheeljack was afraid it would be too complex, but Rachel assured him that she would just practice with it.

Initial lift off went smoothly. Wheeljack's earfins flashed brightly with joy as the human hovered over the ground. Rachel reported no problems, so she went a little higher. And then higher. And then _higher_. She was almost above Thundercracker's impressive twenty-two foot tall height and was _loving_ it.

"Whoo!" she cried, elated. "This is so cool, 'Jack! I never thought I'd—!"

Something popped and Wheeljack's spark spasmed when suddenly the boosters in the devices shorted out.

Rachel shrieked at the moment the boosters failed and she was sent flailing downwards. The humans gasped in horror. Wheeljack was not the only mech who sprung forward to grab the youngling before she hit the ground, but Vortex— _Vortex?_ —was the fastest. He caught the human just seconds after she began to fall, so the hit wasn't that bad. Slamming into the metal palms, Rachel cried out, but almost immediately scrambled upright, her eyes wide and chest heaving.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, trying to get traction on Vortex's hands. Vortex growled, but lowered her to the ground. Jazz and Thundercracker were already there, crouching over their charge.

"You alright? Did ya hurt yerself?" Jazz asked insistently.

Wildrider was laughing next to Danny and Kass. "Ten points!" he crowed. Bluestreak and Arcee frowned at the Decepticon's reaction.

"N-no, I'm alright," Rachel replied, her voice shaky. She laughed, trying to play it off. "Whoa…that was pretty intense."

Thundercracker was not amused in the least. "You said that the designs were complete, Autobot!" he snarled, turning on Wheeljack. "She could have been killed!"

"I'm fine," Rachel murmured, undoing her gloves. She was shaken, but thankfully, that was just it.

Wheeljack sighed, feeling guilty. "I am sure it is just a glitch in the system of the suit," he said. He took the suit parts back from Rachel, intent on figuring out exactly what went wrong. "I will rectify the issues."

" _Rectify_ —that thing is a hazard!" Thundercracker snapped.

Jazz seemed to favor Thundercracker's position. "TC's got a point, 'Jack," he said, worried. "We should probably test it without th' humans in it, ya know?"

"How would he do that?" Barns asked, curious. He was gazing over the parts Wheeljack had placed back on the ground. "Science requires testing and, unfortunately, this technology is for us, and Wheeljack needs _us_ to test it."

Neither Jazz or Thundercracker looked convinced. Kass, who had been watching the scene unfold with a concentrated expression, stepped up and looked at the mechs.

"I say, keep on testing," she said, surprising them all. "I wouldn't want to be on the same level as those drones, but having at least one of us with flight would definitely be a help, even for the mundane stuff." She sighed. "We won't get anywhere with it unless we test it out."

"I'm okay with it, really," Rachel added. She smiled at Wheeljack, unafraid. "I wanna give it another shot, 'Jack."

Wheeljack smiled. "You are very brave to say so. I don't want to put any of you at risk, though," he said.

Rachel waved her hand, unconcerned. "I'd rather risk my neck finding out _now_ than let the opportunity slip me by and need it later," she said. "I trust you, 'Jack."

Trust was never an easy thing to give or exchange, even when Wheeljack hadn't been on earth. For a human—particularly this one who was suspicious of everything—to trust in him…Wheeljack suddenly felt very pressured.

"Let me re-calibrate the sensitivity in the leg boosters," he said finally, exchanging a quick glance with Jazz and Thundercracker—who still didn't look happy. "We can try it again after I make some changes."

Rachel grinned and nodded. "Great."

He made many adjustments and didn't feel safe letting Rachel try it until he was almost completely certain it would work. He was paranoid, just like the rest of them, to place any of the frailer organics into a situation that could harm them. Wheeljack knew very well how much he affected their lives, between simply watching after them while on a trail, or with his inventions.

The day that Rachel took to the air and managed to stay hovering at Wheeljack's height, Wheeljack felt relieved and ecstatic. The others watched, wary, but Rachel, after glancing down at the ground nervously, met his eye fearlessly. She grinned, clearly just as elated that she was in the air.

"Now, what?" demanded Barns, wide-eyed as Rachel experimented, going side to side.

Danny was frowning. "I still don't see the point to this," she grumbled.

"Me neither," Thundercracker added darkly. Wheeljack was disappointed the jet wasn't as enthusiastic as he and Rachel were; shouldn't Thundercracker enjoy seeing _his_ youngling being in the air like he could?

"You'll thank 'Jack when we need extra aerial support," Rachel said, smirking as she gently touched back down on the ground. Wheeljack was beaming behind his mask; it was working!

Danny and Thundercracker both scoffed in disbelief.

Wheeljack did not miss seeing Rachel's smug expression two weeks later when they were attacked by drones—and Danny almost met an untimely demise thanks to a cliff and a low-flying drone. Rachel, albeit clumsily, was able to leap out into the air quickly enough to grab the other girl before both went down the hundred or so foot drop.

Danny was most insistent on trying out the flight suit after that.

 **00000**

 _Invention #10458  
Human-Sized Energon Line Sealer_

It had been a fierce fight. Unavoidable, too, but Wheeljack knew most fights were inevitable in that land. The drones had struck without warning, but at least now they all were ready for a fight, humans included. They were no longer relegated to hiding behind a mech. They could fight and they did indeed fight.

After bringing down the five or seven drones, the group had taken shelter in caves alongside the mountain they had been moving parallel to for a while. Luckily, only Wildrider had taken significant damage and the Decepticon car was still conscious. It was still a severe injury and needed immediate attention. Wildrider, being true to his nature, never made medical procedures easy.

"Hold still," Wheeljack said irritably after Thundercracker and Bluestreak hauled the twitchy mech in toward the back of the huge cavern they had discovered. Getting the huge Decepticon jet and himself inside was a challenge, but at least they were inside.

Wildrider was shaking in pain, but the agony of energon loss only made him more out of control. "Vhat? I am still, this is still," he chattered. He was trying to flip onto his side. "Too cold—too cold inside rocks, vhy not—?"

"Shut up," Thundercracker growled. He was on edge because they had to go so far inside the mountain; he hated cramped places.

The humans, having recovered from their own scrapes, stood by the scientist and his patient, concerned. "Is he okay, 'Jack?" Danny asked, biting her lip.

"He'll be alright once he _settles down_ ," Wheeljack said tersely, resorting to using his own body weight to keep the mech still. Wildrider growled, but didn't lash out. "Wildrider, _please_ , I need to stop the leaking of energon."

"Do what he says, idiot!" Rachel snapped when Wildrider started to fidget again. He sent her a scathing glare, but eventually settled back down.

Wheeljack sighed and began to assess the damage, brightening his earfins to give him more light to work with. Wildrider had taken a drone to the chest plates and the serrated limbs had torn into his armor. It had actually gone down deeper than Wheeljack had hoped and there was energon pooling up. That was never a good sign. If it was a serious leak, he didn't know what he would be able to do.

He wished he had chosen to be formatted as a medic. At least then, he would have been more useful in cases like these. He only knew of basic field dressings, and violent as this world was it was often not enough. Wheeljack moved quickly, trying to discover what he could do for the injured mech. When he did figure it out, he was not pleased.

This…was not good. After manually restricting the flow of energon to that location and drying the area out, Wheeljack could see multiple lacerations to the soft internal piping. He could patch up most of the line…but he could see that the line actually went under Wildrider's spark chamber. There was no way he could do a proper soldering job in a location like that; it was too risky, even if they had been in a proper medical lab.

He had to close the leak, though. The self-repair wouldn't start until he let the energon flow back to that area…but the leaking would rupture more of the lining and Wildrider would bleed to death before it could stop itself.

This was _not_ good.

"How is he?" Jazz asked, after walking over. He had received some minor scrapes, but had spent the majority of their time in the cave tending to Thundercracker, who had taken some direct hits. That matter settled, the saboteur was crouching near the injured Wildrider, tilting his head. "How ya doin', 'Rider?"

"Having _so_ much fun. Should try it sometime, Autobot, yes?" Wildrider snapped, hands flexing wildly.

Jazz ignored the jibe, looking back at Wheeljack. "So?"

"I…" Wheeljack started, but failed to continue. He glanced at Wildrider's blank optics before looking up at Jazz. This was not going to be easy to explain. "I cannot reach parts of the energon line that are leaking. I just don't have the necessary tools, nor the correct sized instruments to do so. Anything I could try would mean moving his spark chamber, but…"

"Slag no!" Wildrider snarled. He pushed fiercely against Wheeljack's arms, legs scrambling to get up.

"Stop it! I was going to say, it would be too risky!" Wheeljack replied, shoving the 'Con back down; he went down easily considering Wheeljack was twice his mass and Wildrider was injured. Frustrated, Wheeljack turned back to Jazz. "I don't have the time to try to make an adaption for my hands to reach in the spots I need to get to. He doesn't have that sort of time."

Jazz, grim, nodded. He looked back at Wildrider. "…Even if you did move th' spark chamber?" he asked quietly.

" _No_!" Wildrider all but shrieked. He thrashed violently, optics bright as he descended into battle mode. "Get off, get off, get off—!"

Wheeljack sent Jazz a plaintive look and the smaller Autobot seemed to be considering the options they had. None of them looked good. Wheeljack did not want to see another friend die, not in such an agonized way.

The others, watching and listening in silent apprehension, didn't have any suggestions either. Or at least, that's what Wheeljack expected. He had not been expecting the melancholy Bluestreak to suddenly perk up, optics blazing in the otherwise dark cave.

"Hey!" he cried. He looked over at Kass, excited. "Wh-why don't you help, Kass?"

The humans, who had been huddled together mostly and looking over Wildrider with fearful worry, looked over at Bluestreak in surprise. " _Me_?" Kass sputtered, her eyes huge.

"You helped to fix me up when your friends found me in the mountains," Bluestreak said, cheerful. He walked over to her and he was probably the only one of them _smiling_. "I remember, you were one of the mechanics." He crouched between Kass and the incapacitated Wildrider. "You saved my life."

Wheeljack stared, stunned. " _You_ have medical knowledge?" he asked in amazement. He had no idea the generally quiet and timid young woman knew anything about field repairs.

Kass did not look pleased with the newfound attention, however. "I'm a mechanic," she said, with a worried expression, holding her hands up at the eager faces before her as if they were about to attack her. "A. _Mechanic_. Not a doctor. I-I just helped out with the basic repairs!"

"For us, it's th' same thing, Kass," Jazz said, now grinning as well. "You know how to work on machines?"

Almost everyone was looking at Kass now. The young woman wilted under the attention. "I-I guess, but…" she said, struggling to find a way out of this. Wheeljack felt bad for dumping so much pressure on the young woman. "I don't know anything about how to fix energon lines, or whatever you said. I only worked on Blue's exterior. None of us knew how to fix his inside problems."

Wheeljack tilted his head, the earfins illuminating Kass's face, creating dark shadows and making her concerned expression worse. He had an idea now, but he did not want to upset the human. He knew what it was like to be put on the spot.

But the shuddering Decepticon below him reminded Wheeljack that they had no time to spare.

"I need tiny hands," Wheeljack said carefully. "Kass, would you help to repair the lines if you could get close enough to them?" She was small enough that she could reach the location Wheeljack could not. The human would have to be incredibly careful around the energon lines, however, even if the flow had been ceased in that area. There were many dangers for the organics from merely encountering a mech's body.

Kass, apparently, knew that. "…I thought the blue stuff burned," she began warily.

"I cut off the flow to that area," Wheeljack explained. He pointed inside Wildrider's injury and Kass crept forward to see. She looked ill. "I just can't reach the injured section of lining."

Withdrawing, Kass looked like she was going to refuse, but Danny grabbed the other woman. "Kass, _come on_ , we can't just let him die!" she exclaimed, panicked.

"I—I…!" Kass sputtered. She looked at Danny, Wheeljack and then Wildrider, her expression mixed with horror and fear. After a tense moment, Kass closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. "Oh… _bloody hell_! What do I have to do?"

Relieved, Wheeljack looked down at Wildrider in contemplation. "Hold on one moment," he said, an idea hitting him. _That could work…_ "You can't use the tools I use. They are too large for you. I will make a smaller version."

Barns looked alarmed. "What happened to _hurrying_?" he asked. "Wheeljack, if Wildrider is dying, won't taking the time to invent some new blow-torch take—?"

Wheeljack ignored the young man and focused on his new task. He did have to hurry, so he had to improvise. Taking his tools to his own hand, he unscrewed the panel that covered his left hand, revealing the transformed accelerant torch he had been using before on Wildrider's armor. While cannibalizing his own parts for this was probably not a good idea, they were short on time. Once they could obtain new parts, he would build the device over again specifically for Kass—because he had a feeling this would not be the last time they would have to call on the human's skills.

The humans and the Transformers waited quietly, watching Wheeljack with varying degrees of interest. Danny moved up next to Wildrider and patted his hand when the mech began to twitch more violently. The only sounds quietly echoing through the cave was Wheeljack's tinkering with the parts and Wildrider's metal plating scraping occasionally on the rocks when a spasm of pain struck his body.

After a few minutes, Wheeljack was content with the result of his adapting. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now. And he was _almost_ completely certain it was safe for the humans to use right away. He turned and presented Kass with the finished torch.

"It was an easy enough fix," he said, unable to not be a little cheerful at his success, despite the circumstances. Kass took the torch with uneasy wariness. "I took one of the cylinders from my own accelerant torch and adjusted the pressure to be released manually by this lever here," he said, pointing at the rim of the container, right below where the nozzle began. "It runs not on the accelerant you are used to, but rather energon. This way, it has the high heat level you'd need to work on our interiors, but it is safe enough for you to be in control of the unit."

"…It's a blow torch," Kass aptly summarized, looking at the torch apprehensively. She looked back at Wheeljack. "I've…used one before. Ah, I don't have a mask...or gloves."

He had forgotten how delicate human tissue was. "Unfortunately, I have neither. The metal will not glow too brightly while under heat, however," the scientist said, mentally noting that they needed to pick those supplies up at the next city they visited, just to be safe. Perhaps he would just create some specifically for the woman instead. Wheeljack motioned for her to step forward and she did. He moved over and let her look down at Wildrider's injury, pointing at the problem area.

"Our skin, as you would call it, is essentially the same as yours when it comes to self-repair," he began, as if he were back at the Academy and teaching just a regular class of students. Kass, although still nervous, paid attention carefully. "It will heal on its own. If the injury is severe enough, however, a mech can still die." He gently lifted some of the lines he had managed to patch—ignoring the growl from Wildrider for poking so close to his spark chamber—and continued, "You need to seal the broken lines. See? The tear begins underneath his spark chamber. I could not reach that far and it will take far too long for him to fix this on his own."

"…They're really metal?" Kass asked, amazed. She had climbed up, shakily, and was looking down at the mech's innards curiously. "They look soft."

"Not all definitions of a substance are the same on every planet, Kassandra. We are _living_ metal beings."

"Fascinating," Barns breathed, wide eyed.

Kass glanced down at the mess of wires, considering. "So…I just solder it? That's it?" she asked, looking up at Wheeljack, frowning.

Unless there was some other problem that appeared, Wheeljack couldn't see needing her to do anything more. "Yes."

The human stared at Wildrider's prone form, her expression indicating she was thinking furiously. Kass was still very new to the idea of working with aliens and probably had the most misgivings about them, considering she had lost her family to the creations of Wildrider's previous masters.

But humans always seemed to do the exact opposite of what Wheeljack and the others expected. They were not logical. Wheeljack had never expected an illogical creature to choose a decision that he saw as the superior option.

Since coming to Earth, he was proven wrong, many, many times.

"…Okay," Kass said, nodding. She could easily have said no and walked away. But she stepped downward, inside the mech, moving closer to the injured area. She glanced up at Wildrider's face, which had turned to face her as soon as she got closer. "Wildrider…ah…don't move, please. You could squish me with your chest if you keep moving like that."

Wildrider's optics, bright as they were, seemed to dim just faintly. He laughed, though, tossing his head away to look at the wall. "Ha! Little squishy is squishy, this I know," he said, as if he was unaffected by the organic standing inside the remnants of his chestplate. "Old news, old news…"

Nervous, Kass turned back to the job she was entrusted to and got to work. Wheeljack had been correct in his assumptions; she could easily squat low enough that she could reach in with the miniature torch. Kass worked carefully and slowly, the torch still rather overpowered for what she was used to working with. Wheeljack had been concerned the heat wouldn't be enough, but he was pleased to see the torn lines being welded together by the scrap metal Kass was working with.

After several long minutes, Kass sat back, wiping sweat away from her brow. "I…I think that's it," she said, her voice hoarse.

Wheeljack leaned forward and inspected the repairs. While expectedly sloppy, the line was sealed. "Good job, Kass," he said warmly, looking over at the human as she got off of the Decepticon. "You make a fine assistant." Wildrider would recover just fine.

Perched from atop the transformed Arcee's seat, Barns pouted. "I thought _I_ was going to be your assistant," he said, whining in a way that Wheeljack knew he was joking.

"You can have the job, believe me!" Kass exclaimed, not catching onto his humor. She gave Wheeljack and the other Transformers a plaintive look. "I-I don't mind helping you guys—considering that you all have helped me so many times—but I don't want someone's life in my hands." She shuddered. "It's…unnerving."

Bluestreak smiled regardless. "We trust you, Kass," he said with honesty. No one said anything to the contrary.

Kass looked to the side, biting her lip. "…Thanks."

Jazz, still crouched, gave Wildrider a wry smile. "Try not to jump in front of a pack of those things next time, hmm, 'Rider?" he asked. Everyone seemed to be lightening up a little, now that the immediate danger had passed.

"Ha!" Wildrider said, grinning. He rolled onto his side, ignorant of how easily he could have ripped open the melded metal. He offline his optics, but his engine was still rumbling strong.

The others smiled amongst themselves (well, not Vortex, considering he was already deep in recharge in the corner of the cave). The evening had started with a potential disaster, but had ended positively. Not only was Wildrider going to survive his injuries, they had found a potential new medic to help out with future injuries (Primus forbid it, but accidents happened.)

"Good call with the torch, 'Jack," Danny said, smiling up at her guardian.

Wheeljack thought it had been the appropriate decision. "I'm just happy that it worked out well enough," he said, settling back against one of the walls. He was on for second shift of guard duty that night, so he had to get a few hours of recharge in when he could.

The others settled in for the night as well, with Jazz and Bluestreak taking first shift of watching the entrance. The humans crowded together for warmth near Thundercracker opposite of Wheeljack and Wildrider. Wheeljack offlined his optics and readied himself for his own recharge.

But he couldn't stop thinking of the possible inventions that could come from this discovery. He onlined his optics, casting a ghostly blue glow around the room. He stared over at the humans, who seemed to already be half-way into their own sleep cycles.

"I was thinking…" he began, his voice startlingly loud in the silent room, "what if I tried to adapt other tools as well? There's no telling when we are going to need medical assistance and I will not be available, or we will need Kass again. Perhaps I should make estimates of other human tools used for mechanical repair and see if I can create other hybrid-designs suitable for—?"

"'Jack?" he heard Barns interrupt from across the cavern.

"Yes?"

The young man sounded amused, but also _very tired_. "Go. To bed. We can talk about this in the morning."

Wheeljack frowned behind his mask, but settled back down. He had many ideas for this now and it was a useful topic for the humans to be versed with. He did acquiesce to the human's request, however, knowing the organics needed proper rest. He shut off the light emanating from his earfins, prepared to activate his recharge subroutines.

But…

"…But what if we—?"

A human shoe came flying across the room and pegged him straight on the side of the helm.

"GO TO SLEEP!"

 

 _**Test** _ **end.**

 **Next: Kass learns that having a talent isn't necessarily a good thing.  
**


	9. Stripes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Kass likes to draw. Wildrider has a commission to ask of her. The others…find something else funny about the whole scenario. Thanks, shantastic for the additional beta-ing! :D
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Western Europe  
Summer_

Kass got up that day feeling refreshed, despite their sleeping situations. Sleeping on rocks was something she wasn't quite used to yet, but she felt awkward asking to sleep inside one of the mechs (she certainly wouldn't want tiny animals sleeping in _her_ chest). It was too hot to sleep inside anyway, and the mechs couldn't afford to waste energy for air conditioning. Apparently, according to Jazz at least, the summers lately were cooler than they had been before the Decepticons had arrived and the extremely short nuclear missile exchange happened, sending the Earth into a semi-nuclear winter. It was still hot for Kass; she was used to cool rocks up in the mountains.

Every morning was the same, regardless of the season. The humans were woken by the mechs, who had very precise alarm clocks apparently. They got up with the rising sun, the mechs to use the remaining energon they had made the night before while the humans made their own breakfast over a new campfire.

Kass always felt bad she couldn't do more for the others, other than cook slightly-better meals than what the humans had been used to (then again, how gourmet could _anyone_ make canned tuna?) and help to gather organic materials for the mechs to convert into their own food. She wasn't comfortable sometimes, talking to the mechs particularly. They were so big, so…inhuman. They were nice, and she had grown to care about their welfare, but she still felt awkward around them.

So she made breakfast out of spam and eggs they had scavenged from wild chickens they had discovered the day before, and tried to feel helpful. The others would constantly tell her that she was doing her share, but…it often felt inadequate.

Unless they ran into drones that day. Only then did Kass stop caring about how much she was useful. She only cared about killing every single one of those monsters.

It seemed like it would be a normal day. Kass had been naïve to believe that, however. After Danny returned the cooking pans to her, Kass had been aiming to pack up her things as usual…but a figure ahead of her caught her attention.

Wildrider, who had been unusually quiet that morning, was walking towards her. Kass watched the approaching mech, apprehensive, hoping that he was staring intently at the people behind her—Danny and Bluestreak—whom Wildrider did talk to often. Perhaps that was it. She ducked away, hurrying with her packing, hoping she could just get out of his way now before something happened. The robot never really talked to her at all, so maybe she was just paranoid—

"Little Kass," the accented voice behind her rang in a faintly sing-song way. Kass felt her stomach drop.

 _Oh, God, no._

Tilting her head back, Kass reluctantly peered up at a black and red face with glowing red orbs for eyes. "Hello, Squishy," Wildrider said, grinning. His teeth, if one could call them that, were practically fangs.

It took everything in Kass not to run for cover. "'Morning…Wildrider," she said, forcing a smile. Her heart was beating faster than she thought was possible. She had a feeling the mech was not just stopping by for a quick hello.

In almost prophetic fulfillment, Wildrider did the mech version of sitting—which seemed horribly difficult to achieve, considering their bodies weren't very flexible. He brought his hands around his knees and leered down at her. "You are so quiet," he commented, with a feigned casualness that was as subtle as his bright red paint job. "Vhy do you not speak to me, hmm?"

"I, uh, am," Kass stuttered.

Wildrider snorted. "Not now, not now. You say hello to everyvone but me," he said, looking hurt. Or at least, mildly upset. Wildrider leaned forward, grinning again. "So. Hello."

 _What the hell?_ "…Hi," Kass said, feeling light-headed. She had no idea what the mech really wanted and it was beginning to scare her. "Um. Was that all you wanted?"

"I have favor to ask," Wildrider said, his expression and voice suddenly brightened. He held his legs tightly as a gleeful child might.

That was not the answer Kass had been expecting. "…Oh. What kind?" she asked warily. Her eyes automatically went to Bluestreak and Jazz, who were talking a few yards away. They would be able to get to her if Wildrider went crazy, wouldn't they?

… _Wouldn't they?_

"Little Kass draws yes?" Wildrider said suddenly, his Russian accent easily breaking Kass away from her previous thoughts.

"Wh-what?" She asked, gawking at him. Clearing her throat, she got to work packing, hurrying even more now. "I, uh, yes. I do draw. Why do you ask?"

Wildrider shrugged, indifferent. "I vant new paint job. Vheeljack doesn't vant to help and I have no skill for paints." He grinned. "Little favor, yes?"

Favors could be dangerous. Favors dealt to insane giant robots who at one point would have killed her on sight was suicide. Kass knew that Wildrider was, ah, calmer than he had been when the war started and she had witnessed his willingness to help the humans on occasion…but he was still insane.

 _How to get out of this…?_

"I see. Um, well, sure, I'd help you. I mean, I'm not really that good, honestly," she said, laughing awkwardly, tying up the straps of her backpack. "I don't know how good a job I can do for you."

Wildrider was insistent. "It is little job, really. And you draw vell; I've seen vhat you do to rocks," he said, referring to how she would often sketch or paint on any rocks they found near camp. Kass liked the idea of leaving parts of herself behind, in case anyone ever walked by to see it. "Little Rachel writes, little Kass draws…Danny makes funny noises with voice."

Kass looked away, feeling strangely embarrassed. "Ha…point." She bit her lip, considering her next move. "So…um…what did you want me to fix? Your paint looks mostly intact." The mechs generally didn't care about their paintjobs, not while running for their lives. Wildrider's paint, surprisingly, wasn't too shabby either.

Barking out a laugh, Wildrider shook his head. "No, no, no, not whole paint job. Vant little one." He pointed vaguely at his sides, grinning. "Like…human race cars in magazines."

Staring at him blank, Kass suddenly understood. "…You want decals." The simplicity of the situation was unnerving. There had to be more than just that.

Apparently not. "Yes," Wildrider replied, smiling contentedly. In a completely disturbing way, of course.

"Oh…I…can do that, I think," she said, despite her remaining anxiety. Wildrider honestly looked excited about it all, however, so she was beginning to believe that maybe that was all the mech wanted. "I already have some paint, but I would need a design. What would you want?"

"Hmmm. Tricky question," Wildrider murmured. He frowned, pondering his answer, before grinning with glee again. "Bold lines. Like varrior masks, human vons." Where the mech had learned that cultural fact, Kass didn't know.

"Stripes? That's all?" she asked, frowning.

"Yes."

"…I can do that." Kass thought the mech would have gone for something far more complicated, considering how ridiculous he could be sometimes. At least he wasn't asking for some warped re-do of the Sistine Chapel. Somehow, she was feeling a bit more inclined to do this. "What colors?"

Wildrider adamantly replied, "Red. Very bright. Bold." He held his hands out, as if trying to establish how bold he wanted them to be.

"Alright." Kass nodded, feeling like doing so was signing her death warrant. "L-let's do it when we make camp tonight." That could give her the entire day to dwell on her potential mistake. Great.

Wildrider grinned and Kass felt faintly ill. She hoped she wouldn't regret this.

 **00000**

Almost immediately after they sat down for camp that evening (about an hour earlier than usual, courtesy of Jazz), Kass got to work. Five minutes into starting her job, Kass realized she and Wildrider were attracting an audience.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rachel blurted, sounding amused. Kass glanced at the other woman.

"He wanted some decals and asked me to do them for him," she explained, making the paintbrush strokes as precise as possible.

Wildrider was sitting completely still (well, as still as the twitchy mech could possibly sit) on the edges of the camp and Kass was doing her best to follow his instructions. He wanted bold, large stripes to curve alongside his chassis, ducking under his arms and spreading out elegantly on his back. Kass had been a little worried the red-on-black would fade while compared to the parts of Wildrider that already were red, but it seemed natural now.

"Your art is bolder than you, little squishy," Wildrider said, grinning, glancing down at her work.

She didn't know if that was a compliment or not. "I try," she muttered. Wildrider only laughed.

The others came and went, looking over the human artist and her creation with varying degrees of interest. Arcee was disgusted that Kass was humoring the Decepticon, but was intrigued by the concept of art. Apparently, it wasn't that common a thing on Cybertron, mostly imported from other cultures. Kass couldn't help but feel cynically unsurprised.

"I knew a mech—one hell of a temper, mind you—who coulda put yer Michelangelo t' shame," Jazz said as he and the humans stood around to watch for a little while. "He woulda got a kick outta yer art scene, man."

"Are you self-taught, Kassandra?" Wheeljack asked.

"Yup. Not many art schools around, if you could believe it," Kass said, smirking. The others laughed at her joke. Kass was a little surprised she did make a joke, but finally getting a chance to paint artistically was relaxing.

She got questions on and off (Are you almost done? What's it going to look like when its finished?), but was mostly left to her own thoughts. After asking Wildrider what he wanted on the back, Kass decided to walk around and have the stripe dip down and then form a circular design.

"What do you want there?" she asked, looking at Wildrider as he peered down at her from over his shoulder. "The Decepticon logo? Your initials?"

"I do not care," Wildrider said, shrugging. He turned back around properly, chuckling. "You are artist."

Sighing, Kass decided to go with typical gears, wires, and Wildrider's initials. It wasn't like anyone would really be looking at it and Wildrider certainly couldn't.

During the whole process, Bluestreak was watching her work with unshielded amazement and delight. "Could you paint me later, Kass? Please?" he begged. Kass bit her lip, trying not to smile too much; he reminded her of a little boy sometimes.

She didn't know if that was endearing or just painful.

"Ha, sure," she said, distracting herself and forcefully focusing only on the painting. "Just let me know what kind of design you want."

"Okay!" the Autobot said, beaming. "I'll think of one in the meantime."

Kass chuckled and nodded. The mech was very easy to please. While she had grown fond of all of the aliens, Bluestreak would always have a special place in her heart. She just hoped that not all of the Transformers would be requesting special paint jobs. This was difficult work.

About an hour later, Kass stood back and looked up at the mech in front of her. Daylight was fading rapidly, but even in the dimming light, the bright red paint marks could be seen.

"Alright. All done," she said, smiling.

Wildrider glanced down at himself, excited. "Ooh, I like this. This is nice," he crooned. He gave her a slightly-less-creepy smile than usual. "Thanks, squishy!"

That was probably the closest thing Kass would get as a normal comment from that mech, she mused. "Ha…you're welcome, Wildrider," she said. It wasn't her best work, but she was happy that it pleased the mech.

The others came over once Wildrider stood. Kass stood by the mech, knowing she'd have to be in the limelight for a while as they appreciated her work.

"Look! I am done!" Wildrider said, proudly gesturing at the stripes.

"Looks good, Kass!" Danny said, grinning. She gazed up at the mech's new paintjob enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Rachel agreed, smiling. "Better than I could do."

Barns looked up at the painting. "Yes. I don't have any artistic skills at all, unfortunately," he chuckled. "Very good job."

Blushing, Kass smiled sheepishly. "Thanks." She was glad they liked the work she had done, but she could live without the extra attention. …Then again, she hadn't received positive feedback on a drawing in awhile, so it was a little nice to be the center of attention for once.

The others said similar things and Kass couldn't help but feel proud. "What's on his lower back?" Jazz asked, instructing Wildrider to turn around so that they could look at the rest of the design.

Kass laughed. "Oh, he wanted the lines to meet at a certain point," she said, pointing at the part Jazz was talking about, "so we added the circle design. It's a bunch of gears and bolts. It has his initials, too." Wildrider's engine revved and Kass grinned; at least her client was happy.

And that's when the trouble started.

A small laugh caught Kass's attention and she saw Rachel was smiling strangely. "…Ha. Ha. It looks like…" The blond-haired woman burst out laughing. "Oh, man!"

Danny blinked at the other human. "What?" she asked, surprised.

"Wildrider's got a tramp stamp!" Rachel cried, laughing even harder.

" _WHAT_?" Kass screeched, whirling on the other woman so quickly, the world kept spinning after she stopped. She didn't care about the dizziness, however; she was more concerned with the horrifying suggestion her friend had just made.

Barns stared at Wildrider's back, before descending into his own fit of laughter. " _Quelle idée horrible_!" he said through his chuckling. "Too funny!" Wildrider gave them both a look of confusion over his shoulder.

Oh, no, this was _not_ happening. "I-it is not! It's just a tattoo!" Kass exclaimed, trying to stop the train wreck of a conversation from continuing. _Oh, no, oh no—!_

"What's a tramp stamp?" Bluestreak asked, confused. Kass was horrified; Bluestreak was _way_ too innocent for this conversation, but there was little she could do to stop it now.

Danny shrugged. "No idea." Rachel leaned over and whispered into her ear. Ten seconds later and Danny was laughing right along with the other two humans. "Oh, jeez!"

Jazz had started to laugh as well, much to Kass's dismay; apparently he knew the human slang as well. "'Rider!" he howled. "You idiot!"

"Vhat?" Wildrider snarled, finally turning around. He glared at the laughing members of his audience, obviously just as confused as Danny and Bluestreak were. "Vhat now?"

"Who'd you do, huh?" Rachel asked, giggling. Of course the ex-camp-hopper would know about the more unsettling aspects of human culture!

Wildrider stared at her, baffled. Jazz only laughed harder. Kass, meanwhile, was quite ready to curl up in a corner and die from embarrassment.

"It's just stripes! I couldn't reach any higher than th- _there_!" she cried, waving her hands. She was sure her face was probably beet-red. "That is so—wrong!"

"What is a 'tramp stamp'?" Arcee asked, tilting her head. Kass groaned.

"It's a lower body tattoo you get near your, ah, bottom," Barns explained, chuckling. "From what I heard from more _worldly_ members of different refugee camps, it symbolizes that you are promiscuous."

"He's a _robot_!" Kass said shrilly, gripping her head. "Stop calling it that! They aren't promiscuous!"

"You obviously haven't seen TC and Jazz go at it," Rachel deadpanned. "I mean, _Goddamn_ —"

"It doesn't matter!" Kass shouted, desperately trying to avoid having that conversation. She really, really did not want to be talking about _giant robots_ and their _sex lives_. "He wanted a decal, so I gave him one. End of story!"

"Aw, Kass, we're just messin' around," Jazz said, grinning. He poked her gently on the shoulder. "We're only tryin' t' make ya laugh, too."

"It's not funny," Kass said, scowling.

Wildrider was still terribly confused. "Vhaaaaat?" he whined, now descending into what Kass always assumed was a child-like state. "Vhy do you laugh. Not funny."

Barns cleared his throat and attempted to be the cultural ambassador. "That kind of marking means you're…um, easy? Mate a lot? A whore?" he said, going for cruder and basic words when the mechs and femme (other than Jazz and Thundercracker) stared at him without recognition. "It's supposed to symbolize that you're good during mating." Barns hesitated. "…Whatever you guys consider mating, anyway."

Optics shuttering blankly, Wildrider looked the very picture of confusion. "…Vhat?" he asked. Being one of the least introduced to human culture other than language, Kass wasn't surprised the Decepticon had no idea what they were talking about.

"It's a human culture thing," Jazz said, chuckling. He smiled sympathetically at Kass. "I mean, it looks great, Kass, but… _awkward_ placement, sweetie."

Kass wanted to scream in frustration. "He wanted it there!"

"Our point exactly," Barns said, smiling innocently.

" _I_ like it," Wheeljack said, tilting his head. "Artistically, its very pleasing to the eye."

Rachel and Barns laughed even harder. Scowling, Kass marched past them. "Thanks, Wheeljack," she muttered to the scientist, who was baffled by what was so funny about his comment.

Ooh, how she hated being made fun of. She wasn't good at handling stress—and boy, did traveling with these lunatics induce stress—so this was almost unbearable. She heard them laughing still and that only made her more intent on ignoring all of their commentaries. She settled on ripping open her backpack and trying to focus on getting dinner ready.

Apparently, Wildrider had to look up what some of the slang meant and sputtered a few seconds later. "Vhy am I whore?" he demanded, childishly confused still. Kass dropped her head into her hands as the others began to laugh again. This was ridiculous!

"You're not! _Primus_!" Vortex shouted, angry. He had been trying to avoid listening to the conversation apparently, but now was getting irritated by it. "Everyone shut up and drop it!" Kass couldn't agree more with him.

"Look at what you've started," Thundercracker growled at the laughing Barns and Rachel. "Primus above."

Rachel grinned at him and was completely unapologetic. "It was funny."

"No, its not!" Kass all but shrieked from across the clearing. Rachel cracked up again.

"Sorry!" the woman called, giggling. "Sorry, Kass."

Kass glared at her and went back to her rummaging, feeling more embarrassed than she had ever felt before. She loved painting and drawing—anything to do with art. She had received her fair share of teasing as a child from children who thought her hobbies were weird and useless, but this was the first time she had ever been mortified by one of her works. Painting was one of the few things she had left of her old life—of her father's presence, really—so she would be damned before she let those idiots ruin it for her…!

Heavy footsteps made her look up. Wildrider stood there alone; the others had moved away, most of them being chastised by Wheeljack for laughing at Kass's predicament. The large Decepticon car stood over her, staring down with unexpressive optics. Kass stared back, nervous for a different reason than usual.

"They laugh for fun," Wildrider said, grinning abruptly. "No harm, yes?

Kass snorted and looked away, blushing again. She hated being teased. She hated it when she was the centerpiece of a joke. Then again…she looked back up at the mech, suddenly feeling guilty. Wildrider was the one who had to _wear_ the joke.

"I could take it off for you, Wildrider," she said, looking at the ground glumly. "If you're embarrassed by it."

His answer, as usual, surprised her, but not in the typical way. "Vhy take it off, hmm?" he asked, glancing down at the parts of the tattoo he could actually see. He glanced over at her, smirking. It wasn't even a creepy smirk. "Vhat's to be embarrassed by? It is picture." He glanced down at the painting. "Nice picture, too."

She had grown used to the quirks of her friends over the last few years. None of the mechs were truly what she'd call sane (she had her doubts about the humans as well), but she had mentally prepared herself for each of them and what to expect from them.

But Wildrider's reaction now threw her for a loop. He was still creepy, still insane…but she had never expected him to say something so…so… _nice_.

Her embarrassment, if only by a little, faded.

"…Thanks," she said, smiling faintly. She appreciated the odd gesture.

Wildrider smirked. But then, he looked back at himself, as much as he could. "…It is very low, though," he murmured slyly.

Aaaand there went the niceness. "Bloody hell— _THEN TAKE IT OFF_!" she screamed, pulling at her hair. Why did he have to be so ridiculous?

"No," Wildrider said, grinning mercilessly. "It is funny."

Kass glared at him helplessly as he cackled and walked away. She desperately hoped that everyone would just forget about this incident.

To her dismay, although it wasn't brought up often, any time she had to use paint for something, at least _one_ of them mentioned the ill-fated "Wildrider's Tramp Stamp Incident." The next time Barns brought it up ("Kass, did you add it there because you had to come clean about something you and 'Rider did?"), she dumped her extra paint on anyone who laughed. Only Wheeljack, Vortex, Thundercracker, and Arcee escaped uncolored.

Perhaps she should have just stuck to being a mechanic like her mother had wanted.

 

 _  
**Stripes**   
_   
**end.**

 **Vote in the polls for the next prompt! It's on the top of my profile page! :)**


	10. Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This occurs about six months after Thundercracker, Jazz, and Rachel met for the first time (after Introductions Part 2, before Part 3).
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Western Europe  
2043 AD_

Rachel had never expected, or intended, her journey to come to this. She'd spent the last six years travelling on her own, deliberately changing traveling companions as often as possible. The last time she'd switched groups had nearly had disastrous consequences, but she was alive. On impulse, she had taken up the aliens' offer to travel with them; she'd only planned to stick with them long enough to get to the next camp, but they arrived to find it had been destroyed. So they kept walking.

The next camp they found had been nearly indefensible, poorly situated and had no escape route. Rachel wouldn't have trusted that group if her life depended on it (and it would have) so they kept going. Another month went by before they found another group…and by then, Rachel was hesitant to leave Jazz and Thundercracker. She had grown used to the giants' presence. They were strong and could hold their own better than a group of humans. They were quick and had radar. And huge guns. The company wasn't too bad either, between Thundercracker's anti-social behavior and Jazz's ridiculous humor. She could tolerate them.

She'd still planned on leaving when the time was right. But nearly a year after that first awkward meeting, she was still walking in the shadows of giant alien robots. The right group of humans had never appeared and Rachel was beginning to think she was fond of the mechs, too. She had had worse company, to be sure.

At first, Rachel had been nervous about trusting the robots. Jazz was friendly, but she had met plenty of friendly people who turned out to be awful later. Jazz seemed genuine, though. He told bad jokes, but Rachel couldn't help but laugh along. He was a people-person. She trusted him, too, to at least watch out for her. He was a ruthless fighter, despite his easy-going nature when things were calm.

But the true muscle of the group had to be Thundercracker. He was unstoppable in a fight, or at least it seemed that way from the ground. He always made Rachel wary; he was quick to anger and gigantic, even compared to Jazz. But after a few weeks with the two, Rachel learned that his bark was indeed worse than his bite. The ex-Decepticon was almost gentle with Jazz (even when he smacked the smaller mech for being an idiot), apparently well aware of how strong he was. They were real friends, she had learned.

When she had literally awakened to find them being a bit more than _friends_ , however, she realized there were even more reasons than simple friendship for Thundercracker to play nice. It was disturbing as hell to realize how similar the aliens were to humans in some regards, but her belief that the ex-Decepticon wasn't going to kill them all while they slept was fortified by her discovery.

Rachel assumed his relationship with Jazz was the reason the jet tolerated her. After all, he didn't seem to like humans, at least none they had encountered. Even when she joined in on Jazz's jokes, teasing the ex-Decepticon, he never lost his temper enough to do more than yell. His angry reaction had scared her senseless at first, but Jazz only told Thundercracker to calm down—and he did, eventually. The jet was careful to avoid walking near her, to keep from accidentally hurting her. And he didn't always ignore her, which was nice. Rachel got used to his aloofness and realized he was just a quiet guy. She could respect that.

Life became scheduled like it would have in a camp. They woke at dawn and walked until dusk, stopping only when Rachel needed to. She didn't like the idea of Jazz picking her up (those claws could be as deadly as they looked; she had seen him tear up drones) and Thundercracker only deemed it necessary to touch her when it got really cold or when they were escaping drones. She didn't say anything about slowing them down, though she felt bad about it. They didn't say anything either. It probably became natural for them after awhile, just as it was natural for her to watch for metal feet, or to look way up to find the face of the person she was speaking to.

She had no idea why she was still there. She didn't like idea that she had made friends with the aliens; friends were unnecessary. But she couldn't find the strength to move away, not yet. She sometimes thought that she would leave when she was older and could run faster on her own. For the present, Jazz and Thundercracker made good company and good protection. It was working out.

It wasn't wrong, she told herself, when they went to sleep at night and one of the mechs stayed online to watch for drones. It was a little weird to find herself curled up next to a giant metal man from space, sure, but she didn't think it was wrong.

At least, not yet.

 **00000**

There were drones closing in on their location. Rachel was terrified by the idea of running into another swarm. She was used to running and hiding from them, but the mechs could fight back. Fighting was scary. Thundercracker was monstrous when he fought and often, Rachel had a difficult time trusting the mech again soon after an altercation. His hands had so easily ripping through their enemies; how easy would it be for him to do the same to her, even by accident?

Jazz had noticed the approaching swarm after picking their signals up on radar. Apparently they kept dipping in and out of range, so there was a chance they could fly by without detecting the survivors were there. But there was always the chance of another fight. None of them wanted that.

Stopping at dusk, they realized they had to decide their next move. Darkness was approaching quickly from the east and Rachel was horrified by the idea of trying to fight them off in the dark. That was impossible to survive; she'd had enough close calls to know.

"We should camp here," Jazz said, glancing around. They were still fifteen miles from the city they were aiming to get to; the mechs needed fuel and Rachel needed food.

Thundercracker rumbled. "No fire or lights," he added. "If we lie low by these trees, we can stay hidden during the night."

"Maybe we should both stay online to watch," Jazz said. "We can hide Rachel's heat signature inside one of our cabins."

Rachel was listening carefully as the two mechs discussed their options. Even almost a year after deciding to stick with the two, it still irritated her that they chose to talk _over_ her rather than including her in the conversations.

Something bothered her about Jazz's suggestion. They had slept out in the open before… but not with drones so close by. She didn't like the idea of sleeping out in a field, even if they were using the surrounding forest as cover. Rachel frowned as the mechs continued to talk. They sounded sure of their planning.

But… something was wrong.

"…Why don't we go by the river? We can keep walking there," she said. "O-or sleep in the forest, where we can all squeeze in."

Part of her wasn't sure if it was a good idea to keep moving, considering the activity might attract more attention than just sitting still…but if they were moving, they could run. And the river ran right to the next city, where they were headed anyway. The forest might work, if they could just find a way to get the massive Thundercracker inside the trees. It could work.

She had expected Jazz and Thundercracker to give her an honest reply, giving critique or a sign of agreement.

She had not expected Jazz to glance at her and then look away. Thundercracker didn't even bother to acknowledge her comment. They just kept talking.

Rachel felt tendrils of anger tug at her heart. "What about it?" she asked, louder.

Jazz made a sound that was daringly similar to a sigh. "I don't think so, Rach," he said.

"Why not?" Rachel asked, insistent. Maybe it was a bad plan, but… "It's—it's a valid suggestion!" She tried to use as many important sounding words as possible, words she remembered from the books she used to read in the camps.

"Rachel, I know it is, but trust me," the mech continued, smiling, "you don't wanna be walkin' after dark."

Jazz reminded her of a man she had met a few years ago. He was all smiles, all jokes, all good intention—except for the part where he was a manipulative _bastard_. Rachel's stare slowly turned into a glare as she watched Jazz begin to turn away from her, expecting her to believe his words of comfort.

Like he was expecting her to be a moron.

"…Why?" she asked firmly.

Jazz glanced back at her, distracted, probably looking at his internal radars again. "Why what?"

"Why not go?" Rachel's hands clenched into fists.

As she expected, Jazz hesitated. Looking for answers, looking for a way to manipulate the truth. "Well—it'll be dark soon, so it wouldn't be safe to travel along the river. Let's just make camp here and go again in the morning."

Rachel glared at him, now fully enraged. Later, she realized that maybe getting angry wasn't a good idea. But anger was as common to her as suspicion was. She wasn't stupid. She might not have had a good idea, but…!

"You're just saying that. Because you don't want to scare me. Well, sorry to disappoint you, _Jazz_ , but I'm not scared," she snapped, her body shaking. "You don't want to go along the river, 'cause rivers are a target for drones. They know people go with the water."

Jazz apparently realized he had insulted her and was giving her his full attention "Well…yeah," he said, his optics wider. He smiled hesitantly. "Sorry, I didn't mean t' insult ya, kiddo—"

"STOP IT!" Rachel snarled. His condescending words just made her angrier and angrier. "Stop calling me a kid! I'm not!"

Something akin to hesitance flickered across Jazz's face. "Rachel…I'm sorry," he said, deliberately slower now. Thundercracker rumbled lowly, watching the scene play out with a guarded expression.

"You're—you're just being condescending! If you have a point to make, make it, don't fucking dance around the subject like I can't understand! I understand!" she shouted. "You want me to listen to you, but—but you're not even listening to _me_!"

"Rachel, please," Jazz pleaded, holding his hands up toward her. "We're not tryin' t' make ya feel like your opinion ain't worth anything, but ya gotta trust us t' be lookin' out for what's best fer ya. Yer no sparklin', I know, but ya haven't seen as much as me an' TC have."

They were aliens, the first Rachel had ever met. But that was the same excuse that all adults used time and time again.

The last time she had heard it was the night before she had met the two of them. When the camp leaders told her to stop worrying about being too exposed, that they'd be fine and that she only had to listen to them and she'd be okay.

She hadn't listened. She'd run away. And she'd lived when they all died, because she'd listened to her instincts.

This time was no different.

Before she even realized what her body was doing, Rachel was turning around. She walked right past Thundercracker and focused only on reaching the trees.

"Where are you goin'?" she heard Jazz ask behind her, sounding surprised.

"I'm not staying here and dying," she said darkly, walking quicker. "If you won't listen to me, fine, but I'm not going to just roll over and die with you and your stupid plans!"

She whirled around when she heard the robot stand. "Rachel—!" Jazz began, now much more alarmed.

Something snapped, either in her mind, or in her heart. "SHUT UP!" she shrieked, forcing herself to face him.

That changed when Jazz reached out with his hand, taking a step toward her. That was it. Rachel tore off toward the trees.

Outrunning two giant robots didn't seem likely, but she had seen them move before. Thundercracker was too large for this low-lying forest and Jazz would be slowed considerably if he tried to get through the thick underbrush. She had an edge, and could at least get a good amount of space between them. Rachel had no doubt that after a while, they'd give up. They had no reason to follow her.

Let them die. Let them follow their own ill-fated advice. She didn't need their help, and if they didn't want hers, so be it. She had her own life to be concerned with.

She wasn't upset. Not in the least.

She kept running, even after she stopped hearing mechanical footsteps crashing through the trees.

 **00000**

Woods were creepy at night. When she had been hiding during the camp attack, she had been terrified of the darkness created by the thick forest, even after the drones had left. At least then, she had found a tree to hide in. But Jazz and Thundercracker knew that trick. She had to keep running, in the thickest parts of the forest where she thought they would not be able to get through.

It had been ridiculous to assume she could stay with the mechs for so long. She didn't play nice with people. She didn't _want_ to play nice with them. She could only trust herself and at best, some members of her own kind. To think that she could live with and trust aliens was stupid and suicidal.

They weren't just aliens though. They had acted just like the other adults she had lived under before. She wasn't stupid, although they thought she was. But she was still alive and they weren't. And there was no goddamn way she was going to stick around Jazz and Thundercracker and wait for the same thing happen—like it always did.

She stopped running, her chest burning and her face strangely numb. She wanted to curl up somewhere safe and just sleep. She was so, so tired.

She knew that they would have abandoned her eventually. She would have done the same to them. At some point, one or the other would have done it. She had to leave them before they left her to die somewhere really dangerous, like in a battle they were trying to flee from. She knew they would.

If her own parents could do that to her, she was sure alien robots could as well.

So, she had to get away now, before it was too late. She could backtrack to the last camp. Even if it had been poorly placed, she could hop onto the next caravan. She would be back with her own people. She…she could just…

Rachel stumbled in the darkness, the moonlight just barely filtering down through the mess of branches. There wasn't another sound, other than her harsh breathing.

It was too dark.

Bracing herself against a tree, Rachel tried to stop shivering. She would be fine. She had gotten out of worse. This…was not the worst thing to happen.

She would be okay.

She shuddered and clung to the tree. Daylight would come soon. The trees made better cover than an open field. She just had to rest and wait it out.

 _She would be okay._

Suddenly, she heard what could only be something breaking tree branches—high above the normal height of a native animal. Something big, something strong—alien.

Rachel tried to find the source, her heart pounding a mile a minute. If the drones had picked up her heat signature, she was done for. Perhaps the trees couldn't stop the fliers from reaching her. This…was it.

The sounds got closer and closer, until Rachel was sure she should have been running the other way. But she was pinned by fear. She didn't have the strength to run.

The last thing she expected was two giant robots to literally come tearing through the trees. They didn't have any extra lights on, save their optics, which were horribly bright. Upon seeing her, the robots stopped dead in their tracks. Rachel stared at them and wondered briefly what would happen to her next.

Jazz—it was easy to tell them apart by size, even in the dark—stepped closer to her, before Rachel felt the ground shudder. He had fallen to his knees in front of her. She could see most of his front now from the glow of his eyes, but everything else was consumed by shadow.

The mech was trembling horribly and might have collapsed on top of her if his arms weren't holding the rest of his body up already. None of them really seemed able to say anything, at least at first.

Without warning, Jazz slammed his fists onto the ground, splintering a log. " _Never do that again!"_ he all but screamed, his alien-eyes as wide as Rachel had ever seen them. The light emanating from them made her own eyes water; at least, she thought it was the light that was doing that.

She had nothing to say.

"Primus…I thought…we thought…oh, _Primus_ , please, never do that again, I thought we were never gonna find ya," Jazz wailed miserably. "I saw drones on th' radar, an'—an' I thought—!"

"I'm…fine," she said. Her voice sounded alien to hear ears.

Jazz did not seem fine, however. He sat back and seemed to be looking down at Rachel, unmoving. Rachel didn't want to imagine the rest of his expression. She didn't feel guilty—but she felt horrible for another reason all together.

"I…" Jazz began, his voice strangely distant. "I…thought we weren't gonna get t' you in time." He spoke as if that were the worst possible thing. Like he actually cared. Like he wasn't…like he wasn't an alien robot.

Thundercracker made a low sound, crouching lower. "You frightened us, youngling," he said quietly. His gravely voice sent chills down Rachel's spine.

Since when did robots get _frightened_?

Rachel sank her nails into her hand as it started to tremble. "I'm alive. We're all alive. It's fine," she said, sounding cold. Her body felt colder.

Jazz did not seem to realize his merciless effect on her. "No…I…I'm sorry," he said, desperate again. He sank down further, so they were face to face. Rachel shuddered. "I shouldn't have made you upset like that."

"…It's not your fault. I…" Why was she doing this? Why did she want to do this? "I…say…things I shouldn't say. I just…didn't want…"

She didn't know how to finish that sentence. She didn't want a lot of things. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to run into the circumstance where she lost something more than just a traveling acquaintance, or… or another camp. She always tried to move on before those things were destroyed. She had thought, because the last time she had not moved quickly enough, that she had to get away from this one as soon as possible.

Why did this feel different, though?

Strange sounds muffled by her own breathing made her realize that she was crying. Since when did she cry? Crying was a weakness and weaknesses got you killed. Standing there, with those aliens, that would get her killed.

So. Why was she still there?

"Standing in the open was gonna get us killed," she said, before she could stop her own traitorous feelings. Suddenly, it was like a dam broke. Everything came pouring out. "That's what I told those idiots in the other camp, but they didn't believe me and now they're all dead—so it could happen again. We could have just moved into the trees, or hidden behind rocks, but not stayed out in the open—but you wouldn't listen!" She was sobbing now. "I don't—want—I don't want to…do that again. I don't want to be the only one left…" Her knees gave out and she crouched down in on herself. "Please, please, please, can we just sleep in the forest?"

Rachel flinched when she felt Jazz move closer, crouching over her quietly. She didn't mind him being so close, she realized. In fact, it felt horribly comforting. It was unnatural.

He stayed there, though, as she cried. She didn't want them— _especially_ them—to see her weak, but she couldn't help it. Everything felt so out of control now. Neither of them said a word. She was grateful for that.

It was horribly awkward. Rachel rubbed at her face furiously in shame. She wished that that afternoon had never happened. She had been a fool.

Jazz rumbled, cupping his hand around her in case she fell over. "We can stay in the forest. Don't worry," he said after a while, judging it was safe to speak. He sounded terribly apologetic. It made Rachel's skin crawl. "I'm sorry, Rachel. We both are." Thundercracker made a sound; she couldn't decide whether was a sound of agreement or not, but he didn't say anything to contradict Jazz's statement.

Rachel shuddered at his words. "N-no. Don't be. It's my fault." Saying what she had to say was painful. Shame mixed with despair inside her chest. "I…have to learn to listen more. To others. I…it's…just _hard_ ," she whispered past a sob.

Letting go of control over her own life, giving trust to people she shouldn't care about, trusting them to do what was best for her—it was beyond unnatural, beyond dangerous. It ran counter to what she had been taught by every event, every circumstance of her life. She had practically been born running away from others, because being close to people could get her killed.

She'd messed up. Big time. She'd let these people get close. They shouldn't have been that close. Now, it was too late.

Jazz moved, making her look up at him. "I know, kiddo, I know. I've been fightin' a war my whole life…so has TC…but ya know what I forgot?" He leaned in closer, visor glowing gently, his smile matching the glow. "You have been, too. None of us are new at this. I gotta listen t'ya more too. 'Cause you ain't a kid." He looked pained. "Primus…I wish you were. It ain't right fer ya not to be. My kind took that luxury away from ya."

Rachel looked away. She had always blamed the aliens in general for Earth's losses, but she had learned there were different kinds of aliens. Not all of them deserved the blame, not entirely at least. Trusting them enough to live with them, though, that was…more than a leap of faith. It wasn't smart.

But nothing that day had been logical, really. Rachel sighed.

"…What are we going to do now?" she asked. She hated how quiet her voice was, and how timid she sounded.

"Do ya…want t' stay with us?" Jazz asked, awkwardly. He exchanged a nervous look with Thundercracker before staring at Rachel warily.

"I…" Rachel began, but her voice failed. She didn't know what to say, but her heart seemed to take over logical thought. Thinking didn't matter now. "Yes." It was unsettling how much she _meant_ that.

Both Jazz and Thundercracker visibly uncoiled in relief. "Good, 'cause I want ya t' stay too." Jazz grinned, breaking the tension with his inhuman powers of conversation. "Yer a real terror sometimes, but yer _our_ terror," he teased.

For some reason, Rachel laughed. "…Ha…thanks, I guess." She sniffed, sitting back against the tree. She was _exhausted_.

Thundercracker moved around the trees. Rachel was amazed the mech had been able to fit through the dense foliage, but he was strong enough to push past the fragile wood. Also, quite flexible as it turned out, far more than she had expected. He maneuvered skillfully around until he was able to slide down onto the forest floor. He looked just as tired as Rachel, making her feel even guiltier. They really had been looking for her this whole time.

"Let's try t' get some sleep. Th' drones moved on, but I think this is what saved our afts," Jazz said, sitting down next to the other mech. He grinned over at Rachel. "Chasin' you through th' woods…we probably ran right by 'em without 'em seein' us through th' trees. Smart thinkin' kiddo."

Perhaps it was because she was so tired, she almost thought she heard pride in his voice. How foolish.

"…I'm not a kid," she grumbled eventually, looking away.

Jazz smiled. "Sorry. It's a term of endearment."

Rachel frowned, trying not to get emotional again. "…Whatever." She didn't sound nearly as argumentative as she was trying to be.

She was surprised when Jazz offered his hand out to her again. Offering her a place to rest. Offering safety.

Curling up on the metal wasn't comfortable. It seemed stupid and unsafe. But Rachel didn't care then about what it should have been like—all she knew was that it felt safe. _She_ felt safe.

Safety was a rare commodity, one to be cherished. Finding it was next to impossible. Rachel had thought for the longest time she was there with the aliens because she lacked proper company before.

She had found something else, though: a safe hand in a never-ending battlefield, a hand that was always offered, day after day after day.

She stopped looking for caravans after that.

Staying still was suicide, but only if she stood alone. She wasn't alone. Not anymore.

 

 _**Search** _ **end.**

 **Next: The Transformers, both Autobot and Decepticon alike, make a choice.**


	11. Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes place several years after Introductions.
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 

"Bucket"

"Rose."

"Cage."

Barns didn't even blink. " _Corbeille_."

"Basket," Vortex snapped out.

"Corbeille is French for basket, 'Tex," Rachel said.

" _FUCK_!" Vortex snarled in anger. "That's slagging cheating!" His irritation only further agitated when the smug humans began to laugh at his expense.

"You shoulda made rules on language beforehand," Rachel offered, grinning. She paused, thinking. "Hmm…minus one point from Barns for using a similar category, but he wins because you said the same word."

"This game is slagging stupid!" Vortex hissed. He kicked a large section of crushed car, sending it skittering across the road (promptly ignoring Thundercracker's hiss of annoyance when it skidded just behind the pack of organics).

Kass snorted. "Just be glad you aren't playing against me." She _did_ know at least five human languages.

"You keep going for the same category that you said before," Barns said, patient. "It is called the Random Game for a reason. Change word categories often, or you fall into the same trap."

"Then you use English!" Vortex demanded, still angry.

"I thought you guys knew all the languages," Danny said, frowning.

"Nah," Jazz said, calling from in front of the group. He slowed and kept pace with the irritable Vortex, grinning as he usually did. "We usually just had time to download the most common language in the area we landed in. I only know, like…five of 'em, cause I had to work with different human groups before the 'Net went down."

"Vortex had to download English from us, remember?" Wheeljack added, chuckling.

Vortex glared at Barns. "Exactly, so speak the language all the players can understand."

"Sore loser," Danny chided, giggling.

Growling, Vortex chose to ignore the snickering. He had grown used to the humans over the years; they were annoying, but the other Transformers could be worse. He dreaded the times he had to put up with Bluestreak alone. That fragger would keep talking even if Vector Sigma told him to shut up. The humans at least could tell when he was really pissed off.

It was better if they all stopped talking now, anyway. They were moving through yet another ruined city, in a land the more-informed survivors called Switzerland. It was a cooler month again. Vortex hated the chills that permeated his joints. Energon wasn't too scarce, not with Wheeljack's converter (and the returning foliage), but winter eliminated many of the organic sources the converter had to be fed to work. The humans also had much to fear during the winter; Vortex couldn't fathom how such inefficient bodies had survived for so many centuries, even before the War reached Earth. Now, they were stocking up on the supplies (coats, clothing, snow gear, canned food) the humans would need during the winter. Wheeljack tried to emulate them when possible, storing extra energon, "just in case."

Cities were unnerving, even in the daylight. Vortex was still unsettled by the memories of how Goddard had died when they'd been cornered in a city just a few years before. They considered splitting up to make less noise, but that was too risky as well. They settled with moving into the area quickly and as quietly as possible. The games were only to calm their nerves, but after a while, everyone seemed content to quiet down and focus on their tasks.

While the humans raided a "grocery store," Vortex was left with Jazz to watch out for any approaching drones to the north. The quiet was unnerving, so he tried to distract himself by looking at the nearby shops. Human cities were laid out on a grid, just like Cybertronian cities had been (or so he'd been told; his gestalt had been brought online in one of Starscream's many military projects, vorns after the Decepticons had left Cybertron), but the shops were so much more varied here. He wandered a few feet from the grocery shop and found himself staring into a glass window that was surprisingly still intact. He could barely see tiny helicopters and other human machines on the shelves behind the dirty windows.

"What store was this?" Vortex found himself asking. He wasn't overly curious about human culture. It was dying anyway. But he was attracted to this shop for its apparent dedication to miniature helicopters.

"Looks like a toy store," Jazz replied. The smaller mech stepped up next to Vortex and grinned at the storefront. "Got some toy helicopters and cars."

"Humans played with miniature models of vehicles?" Vortex asked, frowning behind his mask. It seemed ridiculous, but then again, humans were naturally ridiculous. He had given up judging their behavior after watching Danny repeatedly try to entice Barnaby with inane mating rituals.

Jazz chuckled, understanding his incredulity. "Yeah, they liked t' make toys outta everything in life. Even toy weapons," he said. "Maybe we could snag one of the toy 'copters and try 'em out, hmm?"

Vortex scoffed. "Pointless." He doubted they had the fuel the machine needed anyway. No sense staying around hunting for it; afternoon was already upon them and they had to get to the rural areas again by dusk.

"Yeah, probably not a good idea anyway," Jazz said, grinning over at the taller mech. "Knowing the squirts, they'd probably try to aerial bomb us for once."

That made Vortex laugh. "They are still sore about me and TC winning that last match," he agreed, smug. If they were allowed to use multiple languages in a word game, he could use his flight in a water balloon fight.

Both of them laughed and Vortex turned back to the glass at the same time as his companion. Perhaps they could take one of the toys. It had been a while since they had something new to mess with and he doubted they would be returning to the cities again soon—

Vortex stopped, both physically and mentally, as he saw his reflection as well as Jazz's. Both mechs were standing nearly shoulder to shoulder, looking into the same glass window. Nothing had seemed odd about it before, because he had been looking at the helicopters. Now, he looked above them, at himself and Jazz.

Two sets of optics shone brightly on the darker reflection. Vortex stared at the lights, his processor skipping for just a moment.

One set was red and the other was blue.

Vortex couldn't think of the words he wanted to say, if there were any that could be applied to the situation. Jazz had stilled in the same way he had and Vortex knew they had noticed the same thing.

"…Scary…huh?" Jazz asked quietly. He was smiling, but it wasn't his usual lighthearted smile. It was a strained look.

Vortex said nothing. A cold and weary feeling crept through his body. It felt like the winds that struck the land during the winter. Cold. Merciless. The numbness sank deeper and deeper into his core, touching his spark, which jumped at the contact.

This wasn't right.

He was barely aware of his own roar— _since when had he been angry?_ —and suddenly, his leg had kicked through the glass. The lights disappeared as the pieces gave way.

" _Shit_!" he heard one of the humans shout. Kass was giving him a stunned look from the entry of the other shop. "V-Vortex! Why did—?"

Growling, Vortex pushed past Jazz. He ignored the others' inquiries about what had happened. He didn't quite manage to ignore the startled and then sickened look Wheeljack sent him as he walked past the scientist.

He didn't know how they had missed it before. Vortex wished for nothing more than to erase the revelation from his processors and go back to how they had existed before. It had been blissful. It had almost been…nice. No, it _was_ nice to work with, to protect, to be protected by allies, rather than try to survive alone, with no one from his faction. He had almost forgotten his initial problem with working with these survivors. They all had quirks and he had his own prejudices from those quirks alone—

But when had faction stopped meaning anything?

When had two different colors been enough to make his spark ache?

 _This isn't right._

 **00000**

The problem was a simple one, at least from what Jazz could figure. When each new member of their group arrived, they were forced to go through something similar: they were forced to realize that they were Autobots and Decepticons respectively… and each time they had each made the decision to continue to work together willingly. It felt like traitorous behavior, blasphemy even, to abandon their causes and ignore their pledges. That choice meant their continued survival, but it wasn't easy.

He and Thundercracker had taken several years to get where they were. Jazz trusted the jet with his life and he was sure the feeling was mutual. The others, in their own ways, had wormed their way into his spark. He cared for them as friends—sigils had stopped mattering early on. In fact, only Arcee and Vortex still had their sigils. The others' had worn away or had been taken off as the years and battles came and went. It had been too much effort to take care of the symbols that had, as it turned out, mattered less and less each new day.

But it seemed he was far more willing to let go of old feelings than some of the others. Vortex had an obsession with his old teammates and Arcee wasn't any better. For all of his friendliness, Bluestreak also had some prejudices toward the Decepticons when there was an argument.

Now, they were back to square one and there wasn't even a new survivor to blame. It didn't make sense. They had been all right for five years, and now suddenly, they didn't trust one another and they were all suffering from guilt over accepting this way of life. This was not good, not now.

He traced his own empty chestplates, thinking. They had not run into any other mechs since Bluestreak. Galvatron had never resurfaced and Jazz doubted any of the Decepticons in their group (who had all lost so much to the tyrant) would be willing to work under him again. As far as Jazz was concerned, the war was over. On Earth it had ended as a tie for the two factions – neither had won, in fact it could be claimed that both had lost. He had thought the last symbol of that past struggle had been the sigils. Jazz had really thought they had been over the hurdle, so to speak, when it came to cementing their eleven-person alliance.

But the eyes. Oh, the eyes.

He had no idea what _genius_ in the initial war parties thought that differing eye colors could symbolize a faction. Before the war, eye color was just a matter of preference. Jazz had had blue his entire life, mostly because he liked the color. But he could remember Autobots he worked with having red, or orange, or reddish-hues. It didn't matter then.

It did after the war began though. All Autobots had changed their eyes to a standard blue, and from what he could figure, the Decepticons chose red. Why? Color meant nothing. Red was no more evil or fearsome than blue… and yet now he saw the color as such. It was a bizarre psychological twist, he thought, grimly amused.

He wasn't alone in that feeling. Standing there, looking at himself side by side with a previous enemy, Vortex had seen blue and red standing there. At first sight, both of them should have reacted negatively to their enemy color. But they were just standing there. It was surreal. Definitely disturbing. _Wrong_.

When dusk arrived, Jazz was still reeling at what had happened. He hadn't thought the eye colors would matter anymore, but after it being so blatantly pointed out to them thanks to their own reflections, it _did_ matter. Perhaps it had been the idea of them _not_ noticing before that really freaked them out? Perhaps it had been the fact that they were freaked out about them not noticing it before…and _still_ didn't care?

That was sure enough to freak Jazz out and he had been trying to remain calm all day.

"Soooo," he began carefully, sliding up next to Thundercracker. The giant mech had also been quiet, but then again, he was quiet even in a good mood.

Thundercracker glanced at him past a cube of energon Wheeljack had handed out to them earlier. "So?" he replied, humoring the saboteur.

"What're we gonna do?" Jazz asked calmly. He kept his voice low, however, and was careful not to attract the attention of the humans. They were all quite aware of the mechs' war, but this new mess…this was something the Transformers had to handle on their own.

"Other than tearing out optics?" Thundercracker asked, shrugging. He leaned closer to Jazz anyway, comforting if only in a physical way. "I don't think it matters."

Jazz glanced over at where Arcee was currently glaring daggers at the ground and then over at the other side of the camp, where Vortex was looking at his energon with an equal amount of hate. He had expected that the incident in the city would just fade from their minds, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. Bluestreak was unnaturally quiet and kept sending Jazz and Vortex both worried glances. Wheeljack had that glint in his optics that told Jazz the scientist was "thinking." Wildrider had quieted down as well, and while the insane grin on his faceplates never really left even on the bad days, Jazz could see the red-and-black 'Con was just as agitated as the rest of them.

"Yeah," Jazz said finally, sarcastic, "yeah, it don't matter." He frowned at his friend—yes, his _friend_ ; Thundercracker took an affront to being called a Decepticon now—and said, "Come on, TC. We've been dancin' 'round th' subject fer at least five years."

"The problem was the sigils," Thundercracker replied, still not upset.

"If they were the only problem, why's everyone freaked?" Was it guilt? Was it the fear that they had given up their previous loyalties?

Thundercracker's engines rumbled and he glanced at the smaller mech. "…It's unimportant. We've lasted this long without any alterations to our forms. We just need to place it out of mind," he said slowly.

That wasn't comforting in the least. "It freaks me out, TC. I mean, not that I'm walkin' with 'Cons, but th' fact I'm _not_ afraid of it," Jazz said, trying to remain calm, but he couldn't help but let a little of his panic slip into his voice. He leaned closer, trying to relax. "I'm grateful t' Pit and back that we're all workin' together, but I dunno, man." He frowned. "Vortex was freaked."

"And the more you 'freak,' the more everyone else will," Thundercracker replied bluntly. He, at least, was able to keep a logical front when messes like these happened. The jet paused, looking over at where the other mechs were seated, trying to keep up a civil conversation. "…Wheeljack seems to be either contemplating another insane invention for the humans, or something for us."

That made him laugh. "You noticed it, too?" Jazz asked, grinning.

Thundercracker sighed, sounding weary. "Why do I have the feeling this has something to do with what happened today?" he asked wryly, frowning at Jazz.

The saboteur shrugged, emitting his own sigh. "I dunno, but unless he finds a way t' make us colorblind, I don't care."

"Figuratively or literally?" Thundercracker asked, smirking.

Jazz didn't have an answer for that. "…I dunno," he said after a long moment. He looked back out at the others, worried. "Either or."

He didn't know what to do, other than talk to the others about it. Ignoring it could allow it to fade away on its own, but they couldn't afford to be so awkward with each other now. It was risky enough when they argued. Right now, it looked like if there were a battle tomorrow, they'd re-segregate themselves to Autobot and Decepticon teams rather than acting as a single unit. This was a potentially deadly distraction in the making.

They had to settle it, soon.

The humans went to bed and Jazz waited until they were completely asleep before walking over to the circle of mechs and femme. All of them had anticipated the talk, but no one looked especially excited. Vortex looked almost murderous.

Jazz sat down opposite of Wheeljack, glancing around at everyone once Thundercracker sat next to him. "So…" he began, struggling to find appropriate words.

He didn't move fast enough, apparently. "Primus, do you say anything else?" Vortex snarled.

"Well, there are so many ways to start an awkward conversation, ya know?" Jazz replied dryly, shooting the mech a level stare. Vortex growled and looked away.

Bluestreak sank lower against the tree he was leaning against. "I don't get it," he complained, upset. "I never cared that our optics were different before, but now I keep thinking about it."

"Of course you cared about it before," Vortex exclaimed angrily. "You _shot_ me!"

Hesitating, the talkative gunner continued hurriedly. "I shot you because of your sigil, not because of your optics. I mean," he said, nervous, "sometimes, I met Autobots who turned off the color in their optics, because of some medical thing, I guess, or maybe it was just for energy saving, but I still didn't attack them, because I looked at the sigil first."

"Which is what we're supposed t'do," Jazz said, sighing. "But now…our optics are th' problem." He looked at each of them pointedly. "We gotta deal with this stuff now. We can't afford t' be gettin' nervous 'round each other now, not with winter comin'."

Arcee, as Jazz expected, was going to be one of the problems with this situation. "I will not let myself remove the Autobot insignia from my chest. I am still an Autobot, even if our people have fallen," she said, holding her head high. "Too many of my team members have perished to make it morally acceptable to forget which side I was on."

Wildrider sneered. "Little femme already gave up team—because you made new one!" he said. He laughed daringly, quickly leaping to the other side of Thundercracker when the enraged Arcee lashed out at him.

"Shut your vocalizer, before I do it for you!" she snarled. Jazz almost stood up when he heard her cannons charging. This was not going well.

"He's got a point, Arcee," he began. He winced when the femme's anger was suddenly directed at him. He held his hands up, trying to keep the peace "Not that ya forgot anyone! But…come on, Arcee! Look at us! Four 'Bots, three 'Cons…sitting together, havin' a mostly sane conversation. Primus…we haven't cared about _Decepticon_ or _Autobot_ fer years!"

Arcee's glare never wavered. "I have not forgotten," she hissed, daring him to contradict him.

Jazz knew Arcee was more than dedicated to the old ways and to her old team. She had lost a lot, but so had the others. She had come a long way; he dared to venture that she even trusted the Decepticons in their midst, at least during a battle. The children had swayed her when they were younger, and she learned to care for the humans as a replacement family.

But some habits were difficult to break. Her losses were recent enough that she had her reasons to lash out at the 'Cons if they prodded her the wrong way. This time, though, Jazz was the instigator. He needed her to see the truth.

"But do ya care?" he asked firmly.

That made the femme hesitate. "…What?" she demanded.

"Arcee, you've taken just as many hits fer these Decepticons as you have fer us Autobots. You don't care, or at least, yer smart enough to realize that it don't matter anymore." Jazz frowned. "I mean…yeah, we got different optics. Who cares? We've been fighting for so long together…I don't care about it anymore."

Which was true. The optics made him realize he didn't care and his Autobot-morals told him that was wrong, but he still wasn't motivated to care that he was working with the 'Cons. If they could only just find a way to ignore what they were doing so willingly…

"Me neither," Wheeljack said, surprising Jazz with his quickness to speak.

Thundercracker shrugged. "I haven't for some time." He gave Wildrider a glance, however. " _You_ , though, I've just doubted your sanity."

"Neutrals can be crazy," Wildrider said smugly. He reclined comfortably against his new tree. "Vhy care about optics, hmm? Colors mean nothing. My brothers and I had purple optics vhen ve vere activated. I chose red optics vhen mine vere damaged in battle—I vanted new look. It hass made no difference."

Bluestreak hesitated. "I…I didn't care until earlier. Not that I don't trust you guys anymore…but…" He stopped, suddenly alarmed. "There it is again! I know I should be afraid or at least suspicious of you, but I'm…not. Isn't that weird? I can't stop looking at everyone's optics, but mostly, it bothers me because I'm _still_ not upset that we're living together like this. Shouldn't we be nervous around each other? It's…weird."

Jazz chuckled grimly. "I know what ya mean. It's just our trainin', Blue. Changin' megavorns of behavior code ain't gonna happen in ten years."

"But it doesn't matter," Thundercracker suddenly said, glaring. His patience was finally fading, it seemed. "We've established this. So, who the frag cares? It'd take too much fragging work to reformat our optics. I don't even know how to do that myself."

"Me neither," Jazz replied, frowning.

Help appeared in the form of Wheeljack. "I do," the scientist said, almost hesitating when he spoke. All optics—red or blue—fell on him immediately.

"…'Jack?" Bluestreak asked, surprised.

"It is a very basic update, to be sure," Wheeljack began, pausing. "Just a few tweaks to the cranial circuits. A simple hard-line jack could do it quite easily. After all, our optics are merely glass covers. The color comes from the internal lighting beneath it."

This was not what Jazz had been expecting. This was _better_. "…Really? Slag." He found himself grinning, despite the mixed reactions this new revelation was getting. Half of them looked excited, while the others were still frowning. "But what color, though?"

"Frag this." Vortex stood, glaring at all of them. "I'm not going to pry off my sigil and I'm not going to let you screw around with my optics just to make a few of you feel better about having red eyes peering back at you."

Thundercracker scowled. "You're the one who freaked out first."

"Can I have yellow eyes?" Wildrider suddenly asked, grinning. " _Ooh_ , no, can I have rainbow?"

"This is ridiculous," Arcee hissed. She stood and glowered down at the seated mechs (well, up at Thundercracker and Wheeljack, considering even standing, she was shorter than them). "Changing the mere color of our eyes will not change the fact that we come from different factions. If the war were to ever restart, where would that leave us? I will not compromise my past—!"

Something in her speech made Jazz's control slip. He was tired, physically and emotionally. He didn't want to forget—he wouldn't forget—their pasts either. He had lost too many friends, too many hopes and dreams of his own to forget them now. Those he had lost deserved to be remembered.

But life on Earth had somehow changed how he remembered them. He would never forget Optimus, or Ratchet, or Ironhide—and _never_ Prowl, who had touched his spark in a way no one could _ever_ do again…but things changed. He stopped seeing the present through the past and all he could see now was the future. He only cared about getting to the next day, and making sure that the people he loved _now_ were there to wake up next to that morning.

Jazz wasn't compromising his past when he stopped hating his previous enemies and went on to trusting them as friends. He was moving on.

He stood up, peering down at Arcee with as much controlled anger as he could process. " _Primus_ , Arcee—the war is _over_! It's done!" he snapped. "We all lost—Decepticons, Autobots, Neutrals! You act like they're different species, but, slaggit, we're all Cybertronians. We're all _Transformers_. And right now, we're all survivors of the aftermath of our war." He pointed at his visor, shaking now. "I want neutral eyes. I don't care. I loved bein' a 'Bot once…but slaggit, I'm just Jazz now." He slowed down, suddenly exhausted. He sighed, looking away from the startled femme. "I'm just Jazz and I have friends with red eyes. I don't care."

Arcee was looking at him as if he had become a Decepticon right before her optics. Like he was speaking gibberish, or something blasphemous. He was, really. But he meant every word. He was done caring about faction or what had been. He wanted neutral eyes, if only to avoid this topic ever again.

"It's…symbolic," he said, quieter. "Don't mean anythin' except fer what we want it t' mean. For me…it's letting go. Movin' on. Never forgettin', but movin' on t' more important things, like th' future."

Jazz jumped when Vortex's engines roared suddenly. The helicopter was giving all of them a lethal glare. "Everything of who I am is in the past!" he snarled, not bothering to speak quietly for the sleeping organics. He slammed his fist into a nearby tree, nearly breaking the trunk in half. He ripped his body away, visibly shaking. "I have no identity like this. Everything of who I was then—that's—that's all that's left." He cursed in Cybertronian before marching away. "Frag this, I'm done."

The helicopter stormed away from the camp, clearly intent on being alone. Jazz knew he'd be back eventually, but he didn't dare say that to the mech now; it was entirely possible that the ex-Con would attack anyone who reminded him of his "ex-" status. Jazz wasn't too surprised when the still-silent Arcee mimicked Vortex and wheeled off in the other direction. They all needed time to think.

They were just optics. Just colors. Jazz knew that it was a huge step for them all to take, but he had to be rational himself. He had chosen blue megavorns ago for himself as an aesthetic choice. He had chosen it again when it was an order from his superiors. Now, he was willing to change that color, for peace of mind. To remind himself and the others every day that things had changed and they were allies.

He did understand that it wouldn't be an easy thing to get used to. But as Barns jokingly said once, 'what was seen cannot be unseen.' If they kept seeing blue and red, Jazz knew there would be more problems. They couldn't afford to go back to square one in their alliances again. He knew that, and he hoped the others did too.

After Arcee vanished, the remaining five mechs stared at each other, the silence stifling. They couldn't do much more until the other two came back; this had to be a group decision.

"What about green eyes?" Bluestreak suggested shyly.

Jazz sighed and shuttered his optics.

 **00000**

This wasn't right. It hadn't been right the first time she had met them and agreed to put aside logic and morals in exchange for safe passage. It certainly wasn't right to sit there and agree to erase a part of her life.

Arcee was not a fool. She understood perfectly what Jazz had told her. Distractions got people killed in a war. Friendship was a hazard, but bickering teammates proved even more lethal. One argument could leave the team, regardless of their location, crippled. That was her main reason for playing nice with some of the more questionable members of this new team. She would be damned before she thought them any more than allies, but she could not deny the fact she willingly placed her life in their hands when they were forced to fight their mutual enemies.

But this was different than just being polite and keeping a professional relationship going between herself and the Decepticons. She would never trust them completely. She would never view any of them as a friend. Their unit was unique and ultimately unnatural. She refused to give up believing that beyond Earth's clutches, the Autobot forces continued to fight, or at least, were still in existence. Without the Decepticon generals, their enemies were weakened. If anything, this meant the Autobots had won.

But Arcee was not with those other troops. She was here, on a forsaken, dying world. She had to make sacrifices to survive. All of them had, she conceded.

The others had grown soft, though. Jazz had once been a brilliant member of the special ops teams and a tactical leader in his own right; she had heard much about him from team transfers. But now he chose to treat mechs that had once been their enemies as friends, as family even. Wheeljack and Bluestreak were naïve and far too trusting, calling the Decepticons friends.

Even the Decepticons had lost their pride. Wildrider was hopelessly lost to insanity, but he was still coherent enough to know who he should have been associating himself with. He mocked his old loyalties and seemed to enjoy ridiculing any kind of military order. Thundercracker, perhaps, had gone neutral even before meeting Jazz, but it was clear that he no longer honored any vows he had made to the Decepticon cause. Vortex, at least, seemed to realize his boundaries, but for different reasons. He was trapped in the emotional losses he had suffered. Arcee…she was bound by her honor.

Sitting in the dark, Arcee blocked out the sounds of the others talking lowly. The camp fire was dying and Arcee was left sitting on a broken tree and wallowing in a torrent of feelings. She had lost just as much as the others had. Her sisters, Chromia and Elita One, had fallen almost as soon as they had gotten to this planet. Galvatron's forces were merciless. It had been Decepticons, not drones, who had caused Arcee's misery.

She heard trees breaking; Vortex was still mad. She couldn't blame him. At least he had respect for the wrongness of the situation.

She stared down at her chestplates. A red face worn down to gray streaks mixed with red paint particles gleamed back. She had been honored to wear that insignia, because it had been the moral, righteous decision. She had been trained to be the fastest and deadliest. She was more a warrior than a femme. She had been willing to give her life for this symbol, for their cause.

 _What cause?_

Arcee clenched her fists on the edge of the log, trembling. The stray and rebellious thought made her overheat. She was an Autobot and nothing could change that. Too much had been lost to just…give that up.

But were things really different now? She had other priorities that extended past her duties when she commanded a team. The humans were new concerns for her. She cared for their safety, much more than she would have cared about most of her previous teammates. As an Autobot she had sworn to protect all life, but this was more than that. She had seen them grow and change from younglings to mature adults. They aged so fast; it was startling.

What disturbed her the most about the humans was their acceptance of the mechs. They should have feared them, hated them even. The Autobots as well as the Decepticons deserved humanity's mistrust. All humans had suffered greatly due to the arrival of the Cybertronians on Earth. She had expected the children to mistrust them…but they didn't. If anything, they treated the Transformers as they did each other, like there was no difference between their species. Like the humans didn't care about the origins of their civilization's destruction.

Barns told her once that he _did_ hate Galvatron. He hated the drones. But he did not hate all Decepticons, and mostly certainly not the Autobots, who tried to save Earth. He claimed the others and himself saw no factions residing in their group—just each member.

They made themselves colorblind to their own murderers.

 _How_? How was that acceptable, or even possible? She could not fathom it.

Arcee remembered her past every time she saw red optics, or the purple face upon the Decepticons' chests. She remembered how she once fought mechs like that to the death every time she heard their demonic laughter, or stories of their own wartime escapades. But every time she looked at the humans interacting with both mech and each other… everything seemed to fade. During a fight with drones, she failed to remember their proper places. She took hits for the Decepticons and often found herself thanking one of them absently after they returned the gesture.

Jazz talked about moving on. Arcee scowled at the soft words. It was impossible to move on from a war like theirs. It was true they were fighting a new battle, one that was limited to their own group and was only fought from day to day, with no coherent plan for victory. But… but how could only a few decades on an alien world wipe out the hundreds of thousands of years they had spent battling to the death with each other? How could a few alien children shift the polarity of their alliances and make enemies into allies?

Changing their optic color would only be a daily reminder that they had given up their previous allegiances, given up their past prejudices. It wouldn't change where they had come from. Arcee covered her face with her hands, a habit she had picked up from the humans. She had to rationalize the facts; the color of her optics had nothing to do with her memories, or her loyalties to those memories. It only showed her alliance with the Autobot cause.

…an alliance she had already broken by playing nice with the Decepticons all this time.

Perhaps things would be different if they ran into other Autobots. Perhaps she would have the chance to make amends for her mistakes. They could all go back to how they were supposed to act, as enemies. Emotions didn't matter. She was a soldier, now and forever. For now, however, she was a survivor foremost.

Logically— _although it tore her spark out_ —Arcee knew which was more important.

If a color could soothe their nerves and grant them the ignorance of superficial friendship… she could handle that. Color was just a temporary, reversible thing. As long as she remembered the truth, color didn't matter.

…Telling herself that somehow made everything seem much less complicated.

Rising, she looked back at the others, readying herself. This would not be easy.

 **00000**

This had long surpassed the time to ask, _why?_ The only coherent thing let to ask, really, was, _what now?_ Vortex loved questions—not as much as getting answers—but he never had a problem with them before. Lately, it seemed, questions were rare, because life had become so simple. Get up, walk, dodge attacks, fight if needed, tolerate annoying teammates, enjoy the company of less-annoying ones, refuel, and then recharge or go on night watch.

Suddenly, though, life wasn't really simple. It only took a day and questions were piling up, threatening to smother all of them. Vortex had the entire afternoon to regret noticing what should have been noticed ages ago. He had hours to wallow in self-hatred, the hatred of the Autobots, the hatred of their situation…

Now, standing beside an anonymous creek bed on a world his kind just did not belong on… Vortex couldn't hate anymore. That would be too easy, too… simple. He couldn't blame the Autobots for working with him willingly, because he was working with them too. Even his old faction members—could he blame them for turning traitor, as he had?

Were they even traitors? Was doing what was necessary to save one's life—was that traitorous?

Vortex growled lowly, fragile leaves rustling above him at the displacement of air from his vents. Even if it was—he still wasn't a traitor. How could any of them be traitorous when their supposed master betrayed them first?

The real problem, the problem all of the Transformers were undoubtedly troubled by, was that they were doing something so…so unnatural.

It was understandable—logical even—that they revert to suspicious glances and questioning their status as allies. They had been lulled by years of companionship, close calls, and common interests. Vortex, as much as he was just as nervous about recharging beside his previous enemies as said-enemies were about him, could see where they had gone wrong… or at least changed their behaviors.

Earth _had_ made them go soft. For their own benefit, perhaps, but it was startling when they looked at how much they had let themselves be manipulated by circumstance. Did loyalty (at least for the Autobots, whose leaders didn't go mad with power) mean nothing? Did all the hundreds of thousands of years they spent spilling energon and lives mean _nothing_?

Vortex was at a loss. He could extract any number of answers from captives in interrogation, but the one source he could not force answers from was his own mind. His brothers might have known what to do. They could have found answers—

Vortex's processors stumbled and he found himself realizing something unsettling about his previous logic. About his brothers.

Onslaught would have killed the humans immediately.

He, Brawl, Swindle, and Blast Off…they would have just dismantled the Autobots, even if they had been as alone as Vortex had been. In fact, they never would have crossed paths with them. They would have either let Goddard and Barns be killed that day he'd met them, or they would have killed them on their own.

His brothers would have wiped out anyone they met. They never would have given them a chance.

Vortex, had he been his brothers, would have killed them all, Rachel included.

Why was he different from them? Why had he done what he did?

…Because he had been alone.

Because it was either assimilate or die.

Because he had so craved companionship, of his own kind, of _any_ kind, that he had ignored symbols and factions. He never forgot they were different…but he learned not to care. Megavorns of warfare had become whispers of dreams within a span of decades on this planet.

He couldn't fathom how that was wrong. To want to survive, to want to hear a voice other than one's own. He had lost his brothers' voices. All he had were the voices of these…people. Organic voices and Autobot voices. And the voices of fellow traitors.

How could this be wrong?

In a rare moment of clarity, certain facts became clear to him. Vortex was not his brother—he wasn't like any of them. He could pretend to be, for survival or nostalgia's sake. But he was Vortex. Only Vortex.

There were things to look forward to, rather than just at in the past. Maybe the new things, like companions and an extended life, weren't really important. Maybe everything was unimportant now. Vortex didn't want to think about it anymore. It was so much easier to just… let go.

Perhaps… changing to green colored optics would not be too bad.

After all, Onslaught had red eyes.

 **00000**

Thundercracker knew it was only a matter of time before a decision was reached. Jazz had been right in his worries, to a point; if they continued to act awkward with one another, who knew what sort of dangers could befall them in a large fight? They became companions for a reason and that was to work together.

He hoped—prayed even—that they came to a solution soon. He couldn't care less about his or anyone's eye color. He had given up caring about faction and who belonged with whom long ago. He knew the Autobots had a very difficult time doing the same, considering how much stress they put on loyalty and honoring a vow. Thundercracker, in contrast, never took the Decepticon vows for the vows themselves; he only took them for his trine's sake.

A long hour passed without any real sign of Vortex or Arcee reaching a decision. Thundercracker knew both had their reservations against officially going neutral. Vortex's whole identity rested on his brothers' memories and his role as a Decepticon soldier. Arcee was a soldier at spark and had suffered extreme losses in the last few decades. She would cling to her honor, her vows to the Autobot army, more than any of the others would.

But they had to face the fact that times had changed, life had changed, and they had to make their choices now. Thundercracker knew that the others (who had all agreed in the end to Wheeljack's plans) would give Arcee and Vortex both leniency, but he wasn't above threatening to kick them out. They couldn't risk a slip up during a fight with the drones. If it came down to it, Thundercracker was not above giving them the ultimatum of changing factions or leaving the group.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Their group needed every member they had, if not for safety in numbers or firepower then for the structure they had set up over the years. They had formed a new unit, families in some cases, and that was probably rarer than energon in a wasteland like this.

Just as he was begin to feeling a little nervous about the outcome to their situation, movement alerted the seated mechs of Vortex returning. Arcee arrived a few minutes later. Both arriving Transformers stopped awkwardly in front of the group, watching everyone warily.

"I take it we've all come to a decision?" Jazz ventured; only _he_ would dare make it seem like this was a joke, Thundercracker lamented.

Vortex growled lowly. "What the frag, it's only eyes," he said. He marched over to the group, slamming onto the ground, promoting a mixed air of casualness and irritability. "Won't change me or who I was. Or what I am."

Thundercracker glanced back at Arcee, who seemed incredibly reluctant to say anything at all. He was briefly afraid she would try to continue the argument, or say she wanted nothing to do with it, but she surprised him.

"Conformity is sometimes necessary for survival. I am willing to make the changes necessary to ensure we… continue to function appropriately," she said, her words cold and guarded, as if she were agreeing to some heinous suggestion, like joining the Decepticons instead of going neutral. She held her head high, her pride never wavering, even for a moment.

Jazz beamed. "Sounds logical t' me," he said.

"Thank Primus, we're all finally agreeing," Wheeljack said, relieved. He chuckled, standing. "It's far too early into the morning for this much dissension. I say we get this done as soon as possible." He looked at Vortex and Arcee specifically. "And if you don't like the changes, it is not permanent. I can change it back."

Arcee's optics darkened. "Nothing about this is impermanent, Wheeljack," she said pointedly. "We are crossing a bridge we cannot cross back over again."

Thundercracker scowled. Such pessimism. He preferred not to think like that about his decisions. Nothing was permanent, or at least safe from radical change, on Earth.

"Vait!" cried Wildrider. He grinned up at the others. "Vhat color, though?"

They had been bouncing around ideas while Vortex and Arcee had gone off soul-searching, as Kass might call it. It was either green or orange, and most of them thought orange was too close to red. Vortex shrugged, not caring about the color choice.

Bluestreak was excited over this part of the discussion, most likely interested in color because of his friendship with the human artist in their group. "At least we're not changing the color to blue or red, or even blue and red, because then it would be a little awkward," he said, insanely cheerful over all of this. "I mean, I couldn't imagine having red optics—no offense, guys—but I could handle green. Green… is sorta like Earth, right?"

"Yeah. Red and blue are out 'cause we need to be neutral and equal." Jazz grinned lazily. "I like green."

"I'd look like a walking human Christmas," complained Wildrider, frowning.

"But it fits!" Bluestreak said, adamantly. He smiled. "Green is calming and neutrals don't fight generally. And we're on Earth and in the stories Barns reads to us, green and Earth go together!"

"Maybe white would be better," Arcee said, frowning.

Jazz shook his head. "Too borin'. I like yer idea of makin' it like Earth, Blue," he said cheerfully.

 _How fitting_ , Thundercracker mused. Earth had changed everything else about them. It did seem right to base their next and hopefully last huge change off of the planet that had altered everything else.

He shrugged, giving his consent to the plan. He didn't mind green.

It took more discussion, perhaps longer than what was needed, but green was eventually agreed upon by all parties. Jazz offered to be Wheeljack's guinea pig first and the others watched, anxious. Wheeljack was no medic, but apparently, it was a simple matter of changing the coding. Jazz's visor went dark and then almost pure white—and then an alien color of light green.

… Strange.

The more simpleminded members of their group clamored to be next, and after Bluestreak and Wildrider were finished, Thundercracker offered his hard-line cable to the scientist. It was unsettling to have such an unfamiliar mind have access to a partial amount of his motor functions (even if they were from the same faction, he never would have let Wheeljack have total access to his mind; no sane mech would). Wheeljack, true to his word, was in and out as soon as possible. Thundercracker felt no different after the scientist ejected himself and the jet was left to tap absently at his face, wondering how different he truly looked.

Glancing to the side, he saw Jazz was staring at him.

"…Ya look weird," the saboteur said, grinning.

Thundercracker snorted. "You look weirder." It would definitely take a bit of time to get used to the different color. The Autobots at least had already had a light-color before; Wildrider looked bizarre with such bright optics and Vortex looked downright wrong with it.

But it was only day one. They had overcome the first step of making a change. They now had to stick with it, and if they could reach what they had before—the level of not even paying it any mind anymore—then this experiment would have succeeded.

Only time could tell where this would all lead, in the end. Thundercracker prayed for the best.

Morning meant taking the next step: owning up to their choices. When the sun came up the mechs were all pointedly acting as calm as possible. Watching the less stilted interactions of the mechs around him, Thundercracker thought they might have been able to obtain some peace by noon…but he had forgotten about the other half of their team.

Barns had made customary greetings to the mechs and Arcee, barely giving them a real look over.

But apparently something caught his eye, because he whipped around wildly and gawked at the closest mech to him with a scandalized look.

"… _Jazz_?" the man exclaimed, looking stunned.

Grinning, Jazz glanced down at him. "Yeah, Barns?" he asked, completely casual. Thundercracker sighed.

"Um…what's wrong with your, ah, eyes er visor?" Barns asked, apparently grasping for a way to ask the mech.

"Nothing's wrong with 'em," Jazz said in his usual flippant way. "I can see just fine." He rolled questions off himself like rainwater.

Kass looked unsure as well. "They're green," she stuttered. "I…I thought…" She gawked at Bluestreak. "D-did _all_ of you change your eyes?"

No one said anything at first. Vortex and Arcee were pointedly ignoring everyone again. Thundercracker personally didn't see a reason to talk about it. The point of the change was to stop standing apart from each other. But if the humans couldn't accept the change… Just as he was beginning to worry that their plans of assimilation were failing, Thundercracker felt tiny hands ghost over his leg. Looking down he saw Rachel was smiling tiredly up at him.

"I think they're pretty," she said, smirking. She turned away, yawning. "Let's start breakfast, come on." She shooed the humans toward the campfire.

Thundercracker was grateful for her—and if that made him a traitor, he didn't care in the least.

The morning continued as it did every day. Everyone did their best to ignore and yet include everyone. Conversations were started and Thundercracker could almost feel the tension lifting from the group. It would take a few more days, or even weeks, but they were off to a good start.

Clawed hands traced absently on his wing. He barely had to turn to know Jazz was there, watching the same scene unfold, the same allies.

"Think we did this right?" he asked quietly.

"I don't care," Thundercracker replied honestly. He glanced at Jazz, knowing the other mech very, very well, and added, "But I think we did. At least we tried."

Jazz chuckled, smiling faintly. "Yeah, we did."

None of them could tell the future, or what the exact outcome of all of this would be in the long term. Life gave no certainties, not any more. Thundercracker could handle that. He could handle the group having different colored optics. But if a simple change like this could make his friends—he was feeling daring enough that day to call them that—feel more at ease…he was okay with trying.

They broke camp and headed east.

 

 _  
**Eyes**   
_   
**end.**

 **Next: Vortex has a revelation about himself. He isn't pleased. Not. At. All.**


	12. Keeping a Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _2050 AD  
Northern Italy_

The day started out very calm. Vortex had enjoyed a remotely quiet morning—Bluestreak had been distracted by some human toy he had discovered in the last human settlement they raided. No one really seemed in the mood for a conversation; they were just peacefully, quietly walking. They were moving through a rather hilly area and stopped for the humans' mid-day meal on top of a large bluff. The skies, tinged brown, were lighter than normal. The sunshine was almost warm.

Vortex would have been content to keep the day peaceful, but the humans got rowdy after their meal. The chatting started up again. It was just mild conversation, however. Vortex sighed, shuttering his optics.

He had to admit, this life was not bad. It could have been better. Slag, everything could have been better. He could have still been with his brothers. He could have still been a soldier in the Decepticon army. They could have still been where they all belonged, on different sides of a war.

But here he was, reclining next to an Autobot inventor and half-listening to organics talk about _flowers_ and _wildlife_ and the _ecology_ of a planet that he should have been plundering. Everything was wrong with this life. But he didn't mind it. He tried to, he honestly tried to… but he just couldn't bring himself to walk away from the group. He _expected_ to wake up every morning to this. He _expected_ to trust in and be trusted by Autobots in a fight for his life.

Primus, this was so _wrong_.

Vortex glanced over at the humans lazily. They were the largest source of entertainment he had, since he tried not to socialize too much with his own kind. Arcee, the femme, seemed more ready to shoot him than initiate a conversation. Thundercracker dissociated himself from the Decepticons and was reluctant to relate to them in any way, now that he had a new Autobot mate. Said-mate, Jazz was tolerable… sometimes. His personality was grating at times. Bluestreak and Wheeljack were even worse, with their disregard for faction lines and their excessive blabbering that they thought was intelligent conversation.

There was always Wildrider… but Vortex frequently felt that he had a better chance of holding an intelligent discussion with a rock than he did with _that_ mech. Wildrider's processors had not escaped the loss of his gestalt mates as easily as Vortex's had, it seemed.

The humans were different, though. One moment would find Barns joking amicably with Jazz and Bluestreak and the next he would have an academic discussion with Wheeljack and Vortex about the complex nature of a mech's life-support systems and structural design.. Danny was amusing; she seemed to understand that the Decepticons were of a different moral background than the Autobots and she didn't mind hearing the more lurid tales Wildrider and Vortex had to share. She would attempt to "relate," obviously joking around, but she at least tried to understand the Decepticons.

Initially Kass was too quiet for Vortex's liking. She didn't seem like she had any real backbone, considering how she clung to Bluestreak's side whenever something went wrong in the group. She had made quick friends with the other humans, but Vortex doubted there was anything else interesting about her.

But then he saw her in a fight. Ohhh, Vortex had been too quick to judge the tiny femme. For someone so timid, one would never expect a warrior out of her. But she descended onto the battlefield as if she enjoyed being there. She never smiled or mocked her opponents—but the cold, merciless look in her eyes reminded Vortex of one of his own kind. The _Vortex_ in him demanded to know how this was possible…but then _Swindle_ reminded him of what Kass had been though. Her rage was fueled by the loss of her family, funneled into a lust for battle that was strangely not Autobot-like. It was bizarre.

And then there was Rachel. Rachel was… different all together. He had never thought a human would enjoy so many things _he_ enjoyed. While she lacked the fierceness Kass had on the battlefield, Rachel clearly got a thrill out of violence. She fought to protect, of course, but her raw battle cry in the heat of battle always made Vortex shiver. She monopolized the flight suit, as well. She took to the air like a natural and Vortex always found himself staring at the femme as she experimented with the device. And probably the most peculiar fact about her at all had to be that she could make him laugh. She would say things—snarky, _Decepticon_ -like things—that he had never thought a mere organic would think of saying. She was always throwing him for a loop. It thrilled the inner _Vortex_ ; he relished the challenge.

Vortex idly listened to the conversation between Wheeljack and the three humans closest to him – Rachel and Kass. They had spent most of the meal time in discussion about how aerodynamic shapes dictated the function of small organic pollinators within Earth's ecology. Vortex's interests were perked immediately when he heard that they would try the flight suit again.

"More practice?" Wheeljack asked amicably, retrieving the tools from his subspace.

Rachel nodded. "I know Jazz doesn't like me wearing them all the time, so I should take all the chances I can get to practice," she said, smirking as she looked over at where the saboteur was napping next to Thundercracker. Both had been on watch duty last night. "He's such a mother hen."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Kass laughed. She sat back down against a rock, watching her friend put on the gear. "Better you than me, anyway. I have no idea how you can stand being in the air without something solid beneath your feet."

"It's like being the air itself," Rachel replied, grinning.

Vortex smiled to himself behind his battle mask. He could easily identify with that statement. He watched silently as the human stood up and activated the suit.

It was impossible to look away. Wheeljack had been correct when he had called the humans graceful. Their bodies bent and twisted in such unnatural ways. They could creep along the grass and foliage as if they were some wild beast, and yet, could spring forward into the open as if propelled by a breeze. He was mesmerized when Rachel was able to translate that physical movement into the air, somewhere she didn't naturally belong.

He hadn't noticed himself sitting upright, but he did find himself staring upwards as Rachel twirled in the air. He saw the curvature of her limbs as she ducked, probably practicing for dodging drones. Rachel was often clumsy on land, but she was flawless when in flight. It was a shame they rarely flew together; she couldn't keep up with him or Thundercracker. Pity.

Vortex's spark tinged. Glancing down at his chestplates, he frowned. There was a strange feeling emanating from his spark. He had often felt it whenever he saw the human flying, but today, it was particularly noticeable. He looked back up at the sky, optics easily seeking out the hovering organic.

The feeling persisted. Vortex shifted uncomfortably, uncertain what the sensation actually was. He tried to focus on the human, but the feeling only grew stronger. It was unsettling. For a moment, Vortex thought perhaps the reason he was feeling it was because he was watching the organic, but that was—

Rachel swung around and then flipped in the air, the magnetic vents of the suit flipping accordingly. Upside down, she grinned and waved at him. Vortex stared back, the feeling surging within his chest like a storm.

Suddenly…he knew.

 _Oh._

 _Primus._

 _**No** _ _._

Vortex felt a part of his processor crash.

He knew what the emotion was—he had felt it before. He was no freshly sparked youngling. He had had his fair share of lovers and knew the intimacy his own brothers experienced over their bond. Now, standing there, gazing out at the adult human femme, he realized what was going on.

He liked Rachel.

He was _attracted_ to Rachel.

This was not happening. She was organic—she was a human. She wasn't his species, his size, his ally—! She wasn't anything!

Vortex stood up so swiftly, he made the lounging Bluestreak and Wildrider jump. Having every mind to just _walk away_ —and perhaps blow the slag out of some boulders to get this out of his system—Vortex moved quickly in the opposite direction of the humans. He sidestepped the confused Barnaby, ignoring his question about what was wrong.

Vortex knew what was wrong. Everything was wrong with this. They weren't the same species—slag it, they had nothing in common! He was a Decepticon! He was supposed to be annihilating her race! They weren't—!

"Vortex!" he heard the woman call. "Where are you going?"

Spinning on his pedes, Vortex opened his mouth to snarl something at her to get to her to leave him alone. He didn't want to be near her—he didn't want to look at her horrible, rotten, pit-spawned face—

Rachel hovered just a few feet in front of him, eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?" she asked, completely and utterly honest.

Every nasty thing he wanted to say died instantly without ever reaching his vocalizer. Vortex wasn't sure exactly what happened, but he assumed he had taken a hurried step away from the strangely attractive— _ORGANIC, TINY, HUMAN_ —creature when he lost his footing. Two seconds later, Vortex was looking back up at the sky, back flat against the grassy surface of the bottom of the ravine. He could hear the humans shouting and the sound of mechs approaching.

Everything was wrong now. The situation, his position in it— _none_ of this should have been happening.

But… it was. Vortex tried to calm his raging processors and soothe his pulsating spark. He had long since accepted the fact that he was there, with Autobots and humans alike, and he had to work with them to survive. He had just recently accepted the fact that this was reality now and he had better play nice with all of them, even the humans.

This was the last straw, though. This…was completely and utterly…

"Vortex!" shouted Barnaby, as he, Wheeljack and Rachel appeared over the edge of the hill. "Are you all right?"

He desperately wanted to tell the truth, that he was _not_ all right. But that meant admitting something that he himself couldn't bear to believe. Not only would it destroy every last semblance of who he had been before all this happened, but it would ruin their dynamic as a group. He had grown reliant on the group and his status as a member, a teammate. He couldn't risk losing _that_ because of _this_.

Ironic – he'd spent millennia forcing others to reveal their secrets – now he had to keep a secret of his own from everyone around him.

Vortex let his head fall back onto the grass.

This would _not_ be easy to get over.

 **00000**

He lasted five days. For five days, he kept to himself and refused to stay anywhere near the humans. He had spent nearly a year trying to gain their good graces; he thought it had been because they offered a form of companionship he could find nowhere else. Now, he realized that at least part of that had been driven by a subconscious need to get close to Rachel, spend time with her. With his optics unshuttered to his own desire he was better prepared to fight those urges.

The organics had been shooting him awkward looks ever since his less-than-graceful tumble down the hill and his subsequent exile from their presence. It wasn't like they were completely separated – they all moved together during the day, but Vortex refused to sit near them at times of rest, and he wouldn't answer any but the most necessary questions. Eventually, they stopped trying to get him to communicate like he normally would.

Of course, it wasn't just the humans who traveled with him, and several of the mechs in the group were dangerously perceptive. He tried to cover his change in behavior by talking more with the other mechs, and by continuing to play some of the group games while they walked. He even forced himself to have a boring conversation with Bluestreak and Wheeljack, who were far too chatty for his own tastes.

But that wasn't enough, in the end, to get him out of the sights of the most socially observant mech in their presence. Like a scavenger could sense a freshly slaughtered refugee camp, Jazz could sense social drama from kilometers away.

"Hey, Vortex, what's happening?" Jazz asked smoothly, sliding up to the larger Decepticon as if he weren't larger and weren't a Decepticon.

Vortex grunted. "Nothing." In reality, he was forcing himself to not look at Rachel's backside. _She's not even my fraggin' size! A tiny ORGANIC! Primus Almighty!_

Jazz grinned at the mech. "Aw, okay." He laughed, walking a bit further ahead. "If ya want to talk, lemme know, 'kay? You're scaring the kids."

'Kids' was a little outdated to be used concerning the humans, Vortex mused. They were all mature adults for their species. That was a least a little bit comforting when he acknowledged his attraction to one of them. Better now than earlier in their travels…

They made camp later than usual and Vortex huddled as far away from the campfire and humans as possible, using the natural flora as a curtain. He was prepared for another lonely night. Sadly, he wasn't going to get one.

Jazz had talked and joked cheerfully with the humans most of the afternoon, but as soon as they started cooking their meal, he'd turned and made a beeline for Vortex's position. The Decepticon helicopter growled, but couldn't do much else.

He really, _really_ didn't want this situation to be happening.

"Why are ya exilin' yerself?" Jazz joked, peering down at the seated helicopter. "I swear, they got their shots an' flea baths. They don't bite neither."

Vortex had no idea what the mech was talking about, and didn't care. He glared at Jazz. "Go away. I wish to have solitude."

"You're avoiding the humans." Vortex almost jumped when Thundercracker appeared behind Jazz. The larger Decepticon had been sending him questioning stares all day.

 _Slagggggg it._

"They're annoying," Vortex snapped. He contemplated his chances of escaping the small clearing, but both mechs were quick.

Jazz smiled sadly. "Aw, come on, 'Tex, we're just concerned. You were fine with them earlier this week. Why are ya suddenly organic-shy?"

"I don't want to talk to you about it," Vortex said. He flinched when Thundercracker took a heavy seat right next to Jazz. Both were seated across from him as if they were watching some sort of spectacle.

"Aaah," Jazz began, grinning widely, "so there _is_ a problem." He looked positively cheerful about that.

Vortex growled. "Frag off," he snarled, turning away.

"Seriously, Vortex," Jazz tried again, earnest. "If ya got somethin' to tell us, speak yer mind. We're here for ya." Vortex ignored the plaintive, Autobot-like stare he was being given.

"… You're an Autobot," Vortex tried, knowing it was hopeless. Jazz wouldn't give up.

Jazz sighed dramatically. "Come on, Vortex, is that really yer best excuse? Come on." He leaned forward, optics blazing with honest concern. It was sickening. "Tell us. I know it's somethin' serious."

The Autobot had no idea how bad this was. But…Vortex glanced at Jazz, and the observing Thundercracker, and knew that out of all of them, perhaps they would understand the most. They had each other as romantic companions and knew the trials of attraction on a battlefield.

They were also quite close to Rachel. Maybe… they could give him some advice. Vortex scowled at his patheticness… but the thought didn't go away.

 _Oh, what the frag._ He didn't have much to lose.

"… You promise not to hit me?" he asked at great length, optics meeting optics.

That earned him a laugh. "Unless ya did somethin' really dumb, I won't hit you," Jazz replied, smiling. "What's up?"

Deciding the best route was to, as Barns would say, 'bite the bullet,' Vortex tilted his head.

"I'm in love with Rachel," he said pointedly.

True to his word, Jazz did not hit Vortex.

Thundercracker did. With his cannon.

 **00000**

The humans, cooking their meal over the fire, looked up in startled shock as Vortex came tearing out of the brush, a roaring Thundercracker on his heels, the larger Decepticon swearing violently in Cybertronian. Wildrider, Wheeljack, Arcee and Bluestreak stared at the chaos for a moment before reacting. Wildrider descended into hysterical laughter, Bluestreak frowned in confusion, Arcee dropped her head into her open hands, and Wheeljack looked stricken.

"What the hell did _we_ miss?" Kass exclaimed, stunned. Vortex and Thundercracker had disappeared, but the crashing and screeching was loud enough that the humans had to shout to be heard.

Jazz stepped out from where Vortex and Thundercracker appeared, looking not quite his usual self. He looked more like he had just spotted a hoard of drones. He noticed the humans and quickly put on his general happy-go-lucky persona, laughing about "crazy mechs."

"Uh…Jazz?" Barns asked, peering out into the woods, where Thundercracker and Vortex were still making a racket. At least there wasn't any gunfire. Yet. "Aren't you…ah, going to stop TC from killing Vortex?"

"He won't kill him," Jazz said plainly, sitting behind Rachel and then promptly picking the human up and placing her on his lap. She gawked at him, affronted, but Jazz ignored her. "So, what were you guys talking about?" he asked with forced cheer.

"Put me down!" Rachel demanded. She made a frustrated sound when Jazz ignored her and just kept her in his gentle grip.

Danny, Barns, and Kass exchanged wary glances. Behind the group, they could hear stomping—something crashing into a tree—and more electronic screeching. Abruptly the noise stopped and the forest fell quiet.

Danny slowly turned back to Jazz, who was holding tight to a seething Rachel, clearly ignoring the woman's growing anger and discomfort. "… Aren't you going to… like… stop TC from _hurting_ Vortex?" she asked, disturbed by the Autobot's nonchalance.

Jazz didn't even flinch. "He won't kill him," he said, as if that made it better. He was still ignoring Rachel who was slapping her hands on the hand cupping her against his chest.

The humans all exchanged bewildered, alarmed looks. The mechs and Arcee made it a point to not look at each other, even when Vortex came skittering out of the brush and huddled on the other side of the camp, far, _far_ away from where the humans were seated. Thundercracker emerged shortly after, optics blaringly bright, his engines growling. He sat down between Jazz and where Vortex collapsed and all but sent laser beams of rage out of his eyes toward the meek helicopter.

All of the humans, including Rachel who hung awkwardly in Jazz's grasp, stared at the two, speechless. The awkward silence could have been cut with a knife.

"We good?" Jazz asked brightly, looking around at everyone. Vortex shrank down further. Jazz beamed. "Good!"

Danny and Barns just stared at him, and Kass decided to scooch a little further from the mechs than usual that evening. Rachel finally escaped Jazz's clutches and latched onto Danny and Kass for the rest of the night, giving every mech that came near her a suspicious stare.

It was an awkward night's rest, for everyone.

 

 _**Keeping a Secret** _ **end.**

 **Next: A playful incident has near-disastrous results for Danny and Wildrider.**


	13. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_French countryside  
Winter_

Snow had to be the dumbest, most incomprehensibly useless substance that was ever created, either by chance or by some higher force, thought Thundercracker. Rain was irritating and cold temperatures were never pleasant, and he had thought both of those things were horrible on their own, and definitely awful combined—but nothing beat the sheer ridiculousness of _snow_.

The gray wasteland had turned into a white wasteland. It wasn't the pure white, Jazz insisted, that the snow had before the war. It was gray-infused, the water just as polluted as the usual acid rain would be (thankfully, not polluted at a level that was toxic for the humans). Thundercracker had thought that snow was pretty for about ten minutes the first time he'd seen it, a decade ago; then he'd realized how difficult it made traveling. In previous years the snow had never been so deep, but in recent years more and more snow fell from the dark gray clouds that would appear in the coldest months. Jazz and Barns said this was a good thing, that Earth's systems were re-calibrating after the abuse of war.

Thundercracker still hated the slagging snow, regardless.

The humans seemed to love and hate the snow simultaneously. Rachel detested any kind of moisture and begged to be picked up when they had to walk through the snow-covered landscapes (though when Vortex offered to pick her up, Jazz skillfully intercepted the action by calling her a "pansy"; she didn't ask for rides after that). Danny could be just as negative about walking through tall banks of snow, but Barns and Kass seemed to revert to a child-like state whenever the flakes began to fall.

"Why are you trying to _eat_ them?" Bluestreak asked, curious, as the humans chased snowflakes with open mouths.

Kass grinned. "It's just silliness," she said. "And snow is just water. It's not like we're going to catch a lot of it, since it's difficult to get even one completely."

"Enjoy your cancer," Rachel had said darkly, sneering.

The only good thing about the combination of cold and water was the fact that rivers froze. The temperatures on Earth were apparently much colder than they used to be, so the rivers (the ones not diluted with chemicals from previous warfare) could freeze over and become bridges. They had found that they couldn't always trust the wooden or stone bridges to be in decent condition after decades of disuse and neglect. Today there wasn't even a shred of a human bridge to use to cross the river they faced. Wheeljack hated using the rivers to cross, fearing weak ice. But after several scans, the mechs had unanimously decided that this river was frozen enough to cross. It was a simple and very common event during the winter.

Of course, simplicity was overrated for a few of their team members. Namely, the insane mech and the human with the least amount of self-preservation on her mind.

Wildrider was very much like a child; give him an idea and he would run with it with little regard for consequences. Danny was intelligent, but had awfully random ideas she thought could lead to potential fun…and often ended up as near-disasters. She was much like Wheeljack in that regard, placing creative exploration before logical reasoning.

That day, as they made their way over the frozen river (well, mostly frozen; a large chunk tapered off dangerously on the left side), Danny decided to suggest a game for her and a willing mech to play. The mech would push her ahead of the others on her back, the ice allowing her to spin wildly on its surface as she went. For some bizarre reason, this was entertaining for the human. Thundercracker couldn't fathom why.

And, of course, the first mech to leap up in compliance was Wildrider, who thought it was just the funniest thing ever. Wheeljack and Bluestreak were concerned he would hurt Danny, but Danny swore Wildrider was very careful. With a little push, Danny went flying across the ice, laughing hysterically at the effort. The other humans shook their heads, not wanting in on the supposed hilarity.

"I'd throw up so fast…" Rachel muttered, as Danny slowed to a stop a few yards ahead of them.

"Someone push me," Wildrider exclaimed. No one volunteered and the mech pouted like a child. "Bah! You all!"

Vortex sneered. "You are both being ridiculous."

"It's fun!" Danny said, breathless, as she jogged back to Wildrider. They were making slow progress as usual; Wheeljack refused to let them move too far ahead without scanning the ice carefully first.

Wheeljack wasn't happy about it. "You are getting your coat soaked," he said, sounding strained. He was carrying her bags, since it had hindered the sliding earlier. "I thought you wanted to go sledding when we reached a hill."

"This isn't sledding," Danny insisted, lying down in front of Wildrider. "This is…"

"Bowling?" Barns offered, chuckling.

"Curling?" Kass suggested with a grin.

"Human marble!" Wildrider cried, giving Danny a simple push—"simple" for a mech at least. Danny shrieked with mirth as she went flying, twirling on the slippery surface.

Thundercracker frowned at their behavior. They were almost to the other shoreline and the ice tapered off again at a certain point. This was no time to be messing around.

Jazz, thankfully, seemed to understand that too. "A'ight, a'ight, let's wrap this up, guys," he said, calling out to Danny. "Don't waste all yer energy, Danny, or else we can't do sledding later on."

Danny, sitting up quickly and sending snow flying from her padded body, seemed reluctant to agree. "Aww, but this is fun!" she complained. She stood and stretched. "Fineeee. You guys are such spoilsports."

"You aren't using my blanket to dry off," Kass warned, jokingly.

"Ve are just having fun, yes? No harm, no harm," Wildrider said, giggling. He motioned vaguely at Danny, who started to walk back toward them. "All white world is boring now, so vhy not make fun?"

"Because your idea of fun seems homicidal?" Arcee suggested, glaring at him.

Wildrider grinned, unapologetic. "No imagination!"

"Rachel, do you have my bag?" Danny called, approaching. She stopped, shaking out her pants. "Bleh, my pants got soaked."

Rachel snorted. "Serves you right. 'Jack has your bag, anyway."

"Okay," Danny began, looking back at her sheepishly, "can you—?"

Thundercracker almost jumped when suddenly, in the middle of a landscape marked by silence, a startling crack ripped through the air. He barely had time to look at Danny before she disappeared, straight down into the broken layer of weak ice she had just been standing on.

Rachel's expression went from amused to horrified in a split second. "Oh shit— _DANNY_! _DANNY_!" she shrieked, rushing forward.

She was not the only one to move. Almost everyone had yelled when the human's head disappeared beneath the water and then ran forward haphazardly, only Thundercracker and Arcee having the sense to grab at Jazz and Wheeljack to keep them away from the weakened ice. The problem was immediately apparent and could easily become more serious . The river was still violent in that section of the ice field and the ice was clearly weaker than they had thought it to be.

Although she was a capable swimmer, Danny did not resurface—the current was too strong.

"Hold on, hold on, take this— _DANNY_!" Barns yelled. He ripped off his bag, hurling it at Kass, and then ran toward the circle of water as if ready to dive in after Danny.

Thundercracker barely heard Arcee speaking, until she began to scream. "Wildrider, what are you—?" The femme's voice suddenly overtook the shouting of the others. "WILDRIDER, _STOP_ —!"

Primus granted Thundercracker a single moment to turn and look at the mech Arcee was screaming at. The red-and-black mech had run forward just like the humans had, but instead of reaching for the organic, he had slid to a stop with his weapons raised—and then he fired downward.

Thundercracker had been sure that he had begun to move even before he heard the ice shatter with thunderous fury. His hands found Rachel and Kass and he took to the air. He didn't worry about getting to Jazz; almost as soon as Wildrider's cannons went off, the mechs scattered, transforming. The sound of wheels turning furiously on the icy terrain was lost to the chaotic smashing and breaking of ice. Glancing back, he could see that Barns had dived into the water after Danny and he noticed that one of the mechs had not left the broken jagged hole in the ice.

Vortex had taken to the air, half-transformed, his propellers whipping upright. Barns resurfaced a long moment later, clinging to a struggling Danny, both coughing for air amid the huge pieces of ice. The helicopter grabbed them and shot off for the shoreline, where the other mechs and femme had sped off to. Thundercracker landed moments afterward, depositing Rachel and Kass onto the snow. Vortex, his half-transformation giving him only partial-flight, stumbled onto the banks. He held the half-drowned humans in his grip with as much care as Thundercracker had ever seen.

"Put them down!" Wheeljack shouted, stumbling toward the three in a panic. " _Danielle_! Are you alright?"

Danny coughed up water, looking more than half-drowned. Barns looked no better and the two slid onto the snowy ground without a sound, other than the sound of their hacking coughs. Thundercracker watched as the scientist crouched over them, hands out to help, then faltered as he realized that he had nothing to offer them. Their size was their curse. They were helpless to help.

Kass and Rachel rushed over. "Turn her over!" Kass ordered. "Easier to cough the water out."

" _You fragging moron_!" Vortex howled in outrage, glaring daggers at Wildrider, who had curled up on his knees, watching the humans with a petrified expression. "You almost killed all of us!"

Wildrider said nothing and only stared at Danny and Barns.

"Danny, are you okay?" Wheeljack pleaded, extending and withdrawing his hands. "Please, answer me."

Danny waved her hand weakly, but could only cough. Barns looked around, dazed. Thundercracker stumbled back. His processors felt as though they were lagging. Everyone was moving, shouting—the world spun by him.

"Danny stuck under ice, had to break it, had to break it," Wildrider whimpered into his hands.

"Not with all of us on it!" Arcee snarled, transforming to loom as much as the tiny femme's body could over the Decepticon. While Thundercracker agreed with her, they didn't have time to point it out now.

Kass seemed to understand that all too well. "One of you, transform! Turn on your heater!" she instructed, grabbing Danny by the shoulders. Rachel helped Barns to stand. Both began to haul the pale humans toward the mechs. Danny stumbled. "Wheeljack – pick her up! We have to get them dry and warm, so _move_!"

Jazz was still transformed, so Kass and Rachel all but threw Barns in one open door and Wheeljack placed Danny in the other seat. Kass tossed blankets – hers, Rachel's, and Barns' – in after them and slammed the door shut.

"Rachel, can you take Wildrider and find stuff for the energon converter?" Kass said, breathless.

Rachel, although looking just as pale as the others, nodded firmly. "Yeah. You can last for a while, can't you, Jazz?" she asked the mech as he followed Kass's instructions.

"Yeah, I'm good," Jazz said, engines firing up. He sounded worried, but he was coherent enough to be focused on doing his job. "Heat's on full blast. I'll try to maintain an eighty-degree range. Is that good enough?"

"Not so much so fast!" Kass warned. "Too much and it could give them a heart attack!"

" _VHAT_?" Wildrider screeched, startling them all. He gripped his helm and his optics shone through his clawed hands. "They cannot die! Vhy are squishies so—so— _squishy_?"

"We'll discuss just how fragile they are _and_ how much more gentle _we_ have to be with said-squishies _AFTER_ we establish that those two aren't going to die of hypothermia!" Wheeljack snapped. The scientist almost never got angry, especially not at the psychotic sports car, so Wildrider immediately cowed. Thundercracker had never seen such a devastated look on Wildrider's faceplates before.

"Are they gonna be okay? They're not going to die, are they?" Bluestreak was chattering, nearly hysterical. "I knew the cold was bad, but I had no idea they could _die_ from it!"

"They don't wear dead animals for the fun of it, you moron!" Vortex said darkly. He collapsed next to a tree, just as shaken as everyone else. "Frag it all—that was too slaggin' close for all of us!"

Jazz was irritated, but was trying to keep his cool and not make the others any more agitated. "They'll be fine as long as we get 'em warm and keep 'em that way. We can talk this other crap out later," he said.

Kass, however, was more intent on solving their problems _now_. "Rachel, please take 'Rider and get some stuff for the converter. I'll start a fire and warm something for Danny and Barns," she said, her voice tight. Without a word Rachel turned and walked into the woods. Wildrider followed her, looking back at Jazz and the humans inside him worriedly.

Vortex dropped a pile of dead wood next to Kass, and she thanked him absently as she settled down to build a fire and heat up some broth. Once the fire was going she turned around and fixed all the mechs, but especially Arcee, with a stare.

"Wildrider saved Danny's life – and probably Barns' too," she began. "If she was stuck under the ice and couldn't come back up to the surface, the only way for her to escape was to break it." Kass pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling heavily. "And Barns would probably have drowned trying to find her down there. If Wildrider had waited, either or both of them could have brain damage or other internal injuries. It happened once at… home." She crossed her arms against her chest and gave Arcee and Vortex a firm glare. "This was a stupid accident, one that we won't repeat. But there's no reason to take your fear out on Wildrider."

The mechs were stunned to silence by Kass' assertiveness. Normality returned to the camp when Rachel and Wildrider returned shortly after that with a dark green material Rachel called lichen. Wheeljack set about making more energon for Jazz and the women began to sort through their supplies for dry clothing for the other two.

"Well…today certainly sucked," Kass murmured, rummaging through Barns' bag.

"Could have been worse," Rachel replied. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Thundercracker, exhausted. "That was too fucking close."

The panic faded and the cold pressed down on them with grim insistency, Thundercracker couldn't agree more. He settled against the tree and resigned himself to waiting like the others.

 **00000**

Well, Danny thought. Today was certainly going to go down as her most prolific, as Rachel might call it, "Fuck Up Day."

Barns had helped Danny pry off her waterlogged boots and two layers of socks immediately. She was so cold she was shaking and couldn't seem to make her fingers work right. In a vague way she felt bad about just letting them soak up Jazz's interior, but she knew that time was of the essence. Wheeljack had always warned her about how deadly ice and cold could be. She did not want to test his warnings now. They helped each other peel off identical (now nearly frozen solid) parkas, scarves and sweatshirts. Pride became unimportant now; basic clothing layers were flung off and Danny burrowed under the blankets Barns had chucked at her. It was _freezing_.

"Under the blankets, under the blankets," Barns was muttering as he tried to tuck himself into the fabric. She tried to imitate how he wrapped his around himself with quick ease, but her cold hands caused her to fumble. He was way better at this survival stuff than she was. They curled up, Barns leaning mostly on top of her, trying to stay warm as Jazz kept the temperature low enough to make sure they didn't go into shock.

Maybe under better circumstances, she would have been happy to be hugged by the man. She made it no secret she liked him. She had ever since they met; she hadn't really known what it was until she learned more about human culture. She had never expected to be able to start a relationship with another human, so she relished her "crush," as Kass called it. Barns was strangely aloof about it, though. He never returned her advances and at first she got discouraged. Goddard had assured her once that Barns was just nervous about starting any kind of relationship. He wanted to be "just friends."

Then again, flinging oneself into a field of ice after a "just friend" seemed rather extreme. Danny couldn't find the strength to be that excited just yet, however.

The inside of the car was very quiet. Danny was sure that the others were talking hurriedly outside. Her chest burned with shame; this was all her fault. Now, they had lost an entire day's worth of traveling. What if the drones had been pursuing them? What if they stumbled across them now? What if she or Barns got sick and held them all up even more?

"We're still shivering. That's good," Barns joked, his teeth chattering. He was right; both were shaking enough to make the car move, if Jazz were just a normal car. "No shaking would be bad."

Danny sniffed. "Sorry, Barns…I didn't mean for you to get all wet too," she said, miserable. She felt completely responsible.

"Ha…better both of us wet and alive, than one of us dead, right?" he said, grinning down at her.

He was too nice sometimes. Danny looked away, still feeling horrible. "Right…" She tried to curl up further, feeling more and more tired. "Slag. I'm so cold."

"Should I turn th' heat up more?" Jazz asked. He spoke quietly; the mechs were probably very freaked out by all this. Danny sighed, knowing that this would just go on their list of reasons why organic bodies were inferior to theirs. She couldn't blame them on this point.

Barns hesitated. "Yeah, I don't think we're in danger of going in to shock now," he said. "Keep it moderately low. Sixty or so degrees I think."

Kass and Rachel returned a few minutes later and handed in what appeared to be a thermos of something warm (not hot, Barns firmly said) to drink and sugary snacks. They also handed in clothing to change into, probably raided from their own bags. Danny shivered when the cold air raided the cabin, but they were soon sealed off from the world once again. They decided to wait a few more minutes before attempting to cover up with the clothing. Moving seemed like an insurmountable task at the moment.

"Jazz…" Barns began slowly. He immediately cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak louder. "Jazz, can you tell what our temperatures are?"

"Uhh, hold on." Jazz was quiet for a moment before saying, "Heat sensors are tellin' me yer both 'round ninety-three point seven degrees."

"Eeh, not too good, but could be worse," Barns said. He yawned. "Don't let us go to sleep. Once we get over ninety-five degrees, we should be okay."

Danny wondered where he had learned all of his survival knowledge. Goddard, most likely. Then again, Barns was an avid reader. He knew more about pre-invasion Earth than Jazz did sometimes. Danny loved listening to his stories about what life used to be like. Maybe they all should read up on the survival skills, though. If Barns hadn't been there…she shuddered for a reason other than the cold.

"This is all my fault," she whispered in despair.

Barns flinched, sitting upright. "No, no, it's not," he said firmly, frowning at her.

Danny sat up as well, clutching the blanket to her in a vice grip. "Wildrider isn't completely there mentally," she said earnestly. "I'm the one who suggested it. He can't be blamed for this kind of accident."

She didn't want the Decepticon to get in trouble for this. He could be dangerous at times, but he was very much like a child who was more often inspired to do bad things than have thought of an idea on his own. If Wheeljack or Jazz tried to yell at him, Danny would have to stick up for him.

Despite the situation, Barns smiled wryly "I think you overestimate his insanity. He is quite smart. He hides it well, however," he said. "Even still, it was an accident. Neither of you are to blame."

Looking out Jazz's windows, Danny frowned. While she knew he had a point, she still felt bad for causing all of this hysteria. All for a bit of fun, too.

It could have been worse, she rationalized. So much worse.

"…Thanks, Barns," she said, looking over at him shyly. "You saved my life, really."

That earned her a full-out grin. "What are friends for?" he asked teasingly.

Feeling her face go so warm so quickly was startling while being so cold. "Ha…right." She grabbed her pile of clothing, smiling awkwardly. "So. Um. I turn that way, you turn the other?"

It must have been her imagination, but Barns seemed to go red around the ears. "Ha…right," he laughed, immediately turning away.

It was definitely her imagination when she thought she heard Jazz laugh. Probably just his engine turning over.

Frostbite and hypothermia expertly avoided, Barns thought that a few hours relaxing in the heated interior was enough, at least for now. They had to avoid getting wet again. Danny was grateful for having such short hair now. It was mostly dry by that point. Even still, stepping outside of Jazz's interior was a real shock. They couldn't use their boots again soon, so Danny and Barns accepted being picked up by Wheeljack and Bluestreak respectively.

"Primus…I thought the worst," Wheeljack lamented, peering down at Danny with bright optics. "Are you sure you are alright?"

Danny grinned, feeling just a little better emotionally and much better physically. "Gonna sleep like a rock tonight, but I'm good, 'Jack."

"We should be alright," Barns added. He yawned. "But I agree, we are going to sleep well. The cold does that."

"I'm just glad you're okay!" Kass said, biting her lip. "You scared us!"

Everyone seemed to say the same thing and Danny wanted nothing more than to just drop the conversation and move on. It wasn't worth talking about, if they were all alive and well.

Unfortunately, there was one last thing to clear up.

Wildrider had apparently banished himself to the edges of the group and only moved forward after the others finished telling Danny and Barns their well-wishes. The red-and-black mech wore a dejected expression, and looked a lot like Barns did when one of his pranks messed up. Kass would have called it looking like a "kicked-puppy." For a creature whose expressions were limited by metal, it was impressive.

"Dannnnnny," he wailed, leaning far too close for comfort, making Wheeljack rumble in irritation. "Little Squishy all right?"

Despite the awkward closeness, Danny couldn't help but laugh. "I'm fine, 'Rider. Just a little cold," she said, truthfully. She reached out and patted his cheek, surprising him. "We both screwed up, okay? No harm, no foul."

The mech didn't look too comforted. "Cold kills. But so does varmth," Wildrider said, as if complaining. He pointed accusingly at her chest. "Organic bodies are _horrible_!"

"Not much we can do about it…other than to avoid placing our bodies in compromising situations," Barns replied, grinning. Wildrider looked away, guiltily.

The crisis averted, Danny relaxed in Wheeljack's grasp as they settled for the evening in their new camp. They were behind schedule, but there wasn't anything they could do now. The fire was larger than normal that night, but no one seemed to mind. Danny's toes certainly didn't; she had only begun to feel them again late in the evening as they sat around the fire.

"An' what have we learned from all this?" Jazz asked, teasingly serious as they all shared their evening meal.

Rachel snorted past a cup of coffee. "Giving Wildrider an idea for a game is stupid?"

Wildrider whined and buried his face into Vortex's shoulder, who promptly snarled something dangerous and shoved him away. Wildrider cackled and rolled over to Jazz's side; his antics made Danny smile. At least there wouldn't be long-lasting consequences from this, of any sort.

"Don't blow up the surface we're standing on?" Vortex said sarcastically, shooting Wildrider a glare.

"We organics should all read up on survival techniques?" Danny proposed.

"How about, don't go sliding across weak ice?" Wheeljack demanded, looking down at her gravely. "You knew that the ice got weaker on the outer edges."

"Yeah, 'Jack. I screwed up. But we're alive and we're not going to be doing that again," Danny replied, smiling at Wheeljack and then over at Wildrider, who suddenly looked horribly sheepish. "No more ice sliding. Hill sliding, okay."

"And then the landslide hit," Rachel deadpanned. Barns laughed, but none of the mechs seemed to take it as a joke.

" _Please_! One disaster per human per…month, I guess," Jazz said, draping his claws over his face dramatically.

Thundercracker scowled. "How about never?" he asked dryly.

"Nah, then it gets borin' around here."

"I'm just glad everyone's okay!" Bluestreak said, beaming.

Arcee nodded. "I agree." The others murmured similarly and Danny sighed.

"Well…there's actually one bright side to all of this," Jazz said abruptly, interrupting sparse conversation around the fire.

Wheeljack tilted his head, curious. "Oh?"

"Yeah!" the saboteur exclaimed, grinning madly. "Barns and Danny finally got to lay down naked next to one another!"

Earlier, Danny thought the ice was going to kill her—now, she was pretty sure her head was going to explode from embarrassment.

"JAZZ!" the two very red humans screamed, the others in their company bursting out laughing.

From one crisis to another, Danny mused. It really _could_ have been so much worse.

 

 _**Ice** _ **end.**

 **Next: Barns contemplates the heavens and his place amongst them.**


	14. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_Southern Europe  
2051_

They went to bed approximately an hour and half after dinner. It wasn't a planned thing, but the routine had just sort of evolved over time. The humans slept together near the fire or on really cold nights, inside a transformed mech. The Transformers themselves would recharge in their vehicle modes to conserve energy—well, most of them, at least. Barnaby never felt it was fair to always stick the mechs with watch duty., but the humans needed more sleep than the average transformer.

Barns wasn't sure how the Transformers decided who went on watch duty every night. They had two on duty at all times, each pair taking a watch for half the night. Another pair would wake up literally like clockwork and take over.

How they picked who went with who seemed to be well organized… very well organized. Vortex and Bluestreak, for example, were never to be placed together on duty. The same could be said about Arcee and Wildrider. The mix of those particular couples was always volatile and _everyone_ wound up being awake at three in the morning after a typical argument broke out.

The humans were never involved with picking who stayed up, so Barns had no idea who would be on duty that evening in particular. He had a feeling it would be Thundercracker, considering he hadn't remained next to Jazz. Barns forced himself to lay down on his sleeping bag for a while longer, until he was sure the girls were asleep. The Transformers had immediately put themselves into recharge, so Barns stood up without fear of waking any of them.

They had made camp in a quiet, green spot in the higher hills of the land they were traveling through. Barns thought it was Italy or France, not that the actual political designation mattered anymore. He was amazed that the grass was actually green here. Life was returning. It was uplifting and a peaceful place for them to rest at.

Perhaps that's what set it off.

It was not difficult to find the mechs who were on duty—Thundercracker could hide only when it was pitch black out and they were covered by foliage. Tonight, his massive form was unprotected by the trees, considering he was sitting on the outcropping, just a few feet from where the small wooded area stopped. Even in the dark of night, the stars were just bright enough to illuminate his figure against the night sky.

Beside him, Barns could just barely make out the form of Bluestreak. He was easy to identify from behind; those "doorwings" as Danny called them stuck out like a mock smaller version of Thundercracker's massive wings. Seeing them sitting side-by-side was amusing, at least from behind.

Creeping up as quietly as he could, Barns moved to the side. Bluestreak was unusually quiet, but perhaps Thundercracker was just an intimidating conversation partner. Tiny whispers from the smaller mech died off when Barns stepped out behind him. Both mechs froze but upon seeing it was just Barns, both became surprised rather than alarmed.

"Who—oh!" Bluestreak exclaimed, cheerful. He kept his voice lower than normal as he turned to face Barns, who walked up casually to his side. "Barns, what are you doing up? I thought organics needed a lot of sleep."

"I couldn't sleep," Barns replied, smiling wistfully. He sat down on the grass with a quiet groan. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Bluestreak's optics twinkled against the backdrop of night. "That's not good!" the mech said, now worried. "Do you need Wheeljack? I could wake him up for you. It's not normal for you to have a disrupted sleeping pattern, is it? I know back in the caves they had specific sleeping schedules and I couldn't make any noise when the rest of the cave was asleep."

Barns chuckled. "I'm alright, Blue," he replied, smiling softly. "Humans can't just turn off our brains. I have a wandering mind tonight. I'll get to sleep eventually."

"Only if you're lying down," Thundercracker rumbled. He leaned forward, catching the young man's eyes, his own red optics narrowed slightly. "You should lay down anyway. Sleep will come to you."

Shrugging, Barns looked out at the empty field they were overlooking. Tall brown reeds had stood bravely in the breeze that evening, but now, Barns could only see vague outlines of the plants. They were like ghosts, catching the light only once in a rare moment.

But the sky… Barns could see every star. The moon was behind them, but the stars shone brightly enough to make the moon's presence unnecessary. Barns found himself gazing up at the stars, his mind wrapped up in so many different things—doubts, worries, a pessimism he rarely felt himself feel—

He heard Bluestreak shift closer and Barns found himself wondering why he had walked over to the mechs. He didn't want to bother them and he wasn't sure if he could really voice what he was thinking about—his thoughts were far too jumbled to make a coherent conversation out of them.

But the company, as always, was appreciated. The stars were beautiful, but the empty expanse between him and them made the entire world seem far colder and lonelier than it was.

"What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked again, concern bleeding into his every word. Barns smiled, despite his own turbulent feelings.

"I… am thinking of large things. Like the stars. The planets." Barns sat back suddenly, pointing upwards. " _Où est votre planète_ —ah, where is your home, Cybertron?" He wondered if that was the actual name, or just a translation. He was sure that was just a translation.

Obviously, it had occurred to all of the humans to ask about Cybertron. Many of the Transformers spoke fondly of it, those that had been born and raised there before the war. Wildrider and Vortex had been military projects, created off-planet, but Jazz and Wheeljack would regale the whole group with tales of the Academy—a place Barns would have _died_ to get a glimpse of, from the sound of it—and the nightlife of the more vibrant cities. Thundercracker didn't speak much about it, but he talked of Iacon and the wonders of their advanced world. Arcee and Bluestreak were younger and only knew life on Cybertron during the war. Bluestreak's stories of his city-state, Praxus, were sometimes too painful to listen to, however.

His sudden inquiry surprised his companions. "You mean, where in the sky?" Bluestreak asked. Barns nodded.

Thundercracker's engines rumbled softly. "I have no idea what galaxy you'd call it," he said. "Our galaxy is very close to your own galaxy. It's similar in size and proportion. It is moving towards this one gradually, if that helps."

Barns hummed, considering. "…The Andromeda Galaxy?" he ventured. His knowledge of astronomy was sadly lacking.

"Perhaps." Thundercracker sent him a level stare, red eyes burning through the darkness. "You should be asking Wheeljack these kinds of things."

Yes, he should be. But Wheeljack wasn't awake and Barns didn't think it was that important to know. Besides… he preferred this method better. "Where?" he asked at length, pointing at the sky. "Can you point it out?"

Bluestreak tilted his head. "It's not shining, Barns," he said, probably smiling; Barns could barely tell in the dim lighting.

"Just the general direction," Barns said quietly. He stared back at the sky, hoping to find _something_. He wondered what.

Bluestreak hesitated, before (thankfully) turning back to the sky. "I think it's that way," he said, which struck Barns as comical – such an answer was so completely unbefitting to what he might have expected a robot to say. He laughed. Robots were supposed to be so precise, yet he was continually learning just how _human_ these beings were.

"It's approximately in that direction," Thundercracker added, scowling.

Barns smiled, staring at the vacant black area Bluestreak had pointed. Somewhere, beyond the inky void… another broken world existed. One of metal, one where his friends had once lived in peace.

"What was it like?" he asked quietly, his thoughts running in all directions.

"Cybertron?" Bluestreak asked. He was surprised; this was not a new question and he thought that by now Barns would know the answers by heart. "Well, it's not any different than what we said before. It's a little smaller than Mars—you know, that red planet Wheeljack showed us pictures of before—but it wasn't rock. It was made of metal."

"The Earth is also made of metal," Thundercracker murmured. He was looking up at the sky now, too. "However, our planet had no core and no crust. It was solid metal all the way through, until we developed the mines."

"That's hardly natural," Barns chuckled. He had often wondered how that would work, but then again, he was used to the physics of the Earth. Who knew the real limits of this universe, if one could only see it from one tiny section?

The jet shrugged, the noise of the gesture quite loud. "We do not know how it was formed. Some scientists said that Cybertron was deficient in a variety of elements required to form a rock crust. Others theorized that it was built by another race, the one that made us."

"Which do you think happened?" Barns asked, curious.

"I don't care what happened. I was sparked by Vector Sigma and given life. I lived it there before the war. I lived through the war there and in space. And now I live here, in refuge," Thundercracker said, his voice betraying no feeling. He glanced down at Barns. "That is enough to know."

Barns could relate to that philosophy.

But curiosity would be the death of him, he figured. He laid down on the grass and took in the vast sky. "What were the cities like?" he asked.

"The cities? Well, they were like…cities. You know," Bluestreak replied, peering over at him. "They were way bigger than your own cities, or at least Praxus was. I never really visited anywhere besides there, since that was where I grew up, and then I moved into the military bases." He paused and looked over at Thundercracker, hopeful. "TC, you're older than I am. Did you ever visit Iacon? Or Kaon—though that wasn't really such a nice place, I don't think, to visit."

"It was home for me," Thundercracker replied, deadpan. However, beneath the blank visage, Barns thought he could see a teasing smirk lurking. Perhaps the jet had learned a thing or two about joking around from Jazz.

Bluestreak, apparently immune to the concept of sarcasm and jokes, immediately reacted. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sound—I was just repeating what I heard!" If robots could blush, Bluestreak would have been horribly red. Barns laughed as the hyper mech continued to wail about how sorry he was and how he didn't want to insult Thundercracker's home.

"Forget it," Thundercracker finally said, snapping. He looked away, probably hiding a smirk. "It was a horrible place. All slums. But yes, I visited Iacon. Once, I even went to Praxus."

Barns smiled. "Did you guys have your own form of cars? You know, transportation?" he asked, curious. "Or did you just drive yourselves places?" A car driving a car—that would have been a sight to see, he mused.

Thankfully forgetting his previous social blunder, Bluestreak perked at the question. "Oh, no, we just drove ourselves," he said, cheerful. "My creators would just transform when they were transporting me around places, before I had my transformation cog installed."

"It is not an innate thing?" Barns asked, surprised. He would have thought it to be a natural part of their biology.

"We are born without form, Barns," Thundercracker interjected. "These bodies are not who we are. They are adaptations, shells." He glanced down at himself, his red eyes illuminating his chest. "Our sparks are who we are. Whoever made the first of us gave us this way to protect our sparks, as well as the ability to transform and become fully functional – as we are now. The transformation cogs are just part of the shell. Another defensive mechanism."

"Ah. So the armor and metal forms were added when necessary, not at birth," Barns repeated. Well, that made some sense. He couldn't really bring himself to picture a pregnant robot. Awkward. "But I thought your race came from the All Spark. What is Vector Sigma?"

"A way to tap into the All Spark's power," Thundercracker replied. "Similar to a mainframe computer."

"Yeah, it was a large Transformer, one who wasn't sentient. It would funnel the power from the Cube into protoform shells, making a new Transformer," Bluestreak added. He sounded wistful. "Without the All Spark now, it's useless."

Barns frowned. "You were one of the last generations to be born, I imagine." He himself was a member of the post-attack population, if one only considered the Decepticons as the attackers. He was smack-dab in the middle of the drone infestation, unfortunately.

Bluestreak paused—for just a moment too long. "Yes."

 _Too close, too close…!_ "Do the parents—creators, sorry—pick out which protoform they get?" Barns asked quickly, trying to step over his mistake. Some questions were just too close to ask some people. "Or is it at random?"

A curious look crossed over the mech's face, much to Barns' relief. "They pick the shell, of course," Bluestreak began, sounding confused, "but no one knows what kind of spark a mech or femme will have."

"And gender comes later?" Barns asked, trying to remember what Wheeljack had said about the differences between mechs and femmes. It got confusing at some points, but he could at least pretend he understood.

"Yes," Bluestreak replied, becoming cheerful once again, now that he could share more of his culture with the human. "After they show a decent display of personality. They get a name then, too."

Barns choked on a laugh. "You don't get names at birth?" he exclaimed, laughing. What did they call their children then, before they did?

Neither Bluestreak nor Thundercracker seemed to understand why he was laughing. "Of course not," Bluestreak said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "How would they know what to name them if they didn't have personalities yet?" Barns chuckled. "We have state designations. You know, serial numbers. The new name is a personal one, you know?"

It did make sense, to a degree. In fact, it was almost logical to keep the names to a bare basic until they could give the sparkling a name that fit it specifically. "…Huh. That's… interesting," Barns said at length, nodding slowly. "Human names mean things too, but the parents pick them out at birth, before the meanings can really be applied to the infant. Or sometimes in hope that they will apply to the child."

"What does Barnaby mean?" Bluestreak asked, instantly curious.

 _Hmm_. "Ah, I'm not sure." Barns scrunched his face in concentration, the stars disappearing into vague blurs of light as he did so. "I think my _grand-mère_ once said it meant, 'son of encouragement.'"

Bluestreak just stared at him, uncomprehending. "…But you're not the son of someone called Encouragement, are you?"

"Ha, no, Blue. You see what I mean?" Barns asked, grinning at him. Humans did get the short of the end of the naming stick, it seemed; at least the mechs had names that suited them. He rolled back and folded his hands underneath his head. "Thanks, by the way. For listening to all of my questions."

Bluestreak rumbled in amusement. "It's okay! But, are you okay? You seem kinda down." The mech leaned forward, optics wider. "What brought all this on?"

Barns opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know quite what to say. Thundercracker was looking at him curiously now, too, both mechs waiting for an answer.

"I…" Barns began. Some ill fluttered in his stomach and he forced his gaze back toward the sky. "There are so many stars, Blue. Look." He held a hand out, letting his arm balance towards the black abyss. "It's hard to imagine we are part of the same sky." Cybertron and Earth… so different, and yet, very, very similar. It was boggling to realize that they had existed almost side-by-side for so long and no one knew.

His philosophical commentary fell on uncomprehending audio receptors, it seemed. "We are, though," Bluestreak replied, smiling brightly. "We're all part of the same universe. Now we're on the same planet!"

Barns stared upward and felt the loneliness in his heart increase. There were so many worlds, stars, places—but they were trapped here. On Earth.

"…Humanity won't recover from this, will it?" he asked quietly, the words escaping him before he had any time to think.

He heard the mechanical sounds of both Thundercracker and Bluestreak going physically still and then looking down at him with new attentiveness. Barns smiled gently and looked back at them.

"What do you mean?" Bluestreak blurted out, optics shining brighter than they had before.

Barns sighed gustily. "Oh… this," he said, motioning vaguely out at the landscape around them. "It was only a matter of time before something caused my species' end. Earth may survive, but I have doubts about humans. We… we will probably not see the end of this upcoming century."

The refugee camps were becoming fewer and fewer in between. The populations within the remaining ones were dropping.

Humanity had a countdown now. Barns didn't know why he wasn't as terrified as he should have been.

Thundercracker's engines made a loud rumbling noise. "Humanity's only been on this planet for a few hundred thousand years," he said bluntly. "That's nothing."

"Yes, but how long did your kind have before your war?" Barns asked, tilting his head. "You live much longer lives, thus having smaller populations. Despite being millions of years old, your population is probably on par with humanity's timeline, I think."

Bluestreak squirmed, or at least did the mech version of uncomfortably moving in his seat. "Maybe, but why are you talking about this?" he asked, sounding pained. "It's… not pleasant."

"I don't know." Barns closed his eyes, feeling out of control. "It's been on my mind. I can't stop thinking…"

He stopped himself, afraid to hear his own concerns. He tried to be the positive one. It was so easy to fall into despair and doubt. Every day—every day there was another reminder that life was short and that they could very easily lose their life—or each other.

Barns thought he handled it well, perhaps better than the other humans, but today… today, he was not so lucky.

"About what?" Bluestreak asked, breaking into his thoughts.

The innocent, unintentionally abrasive question broke down Barns' resolve to keep his thoughts hidden. Those treacherous thoughts became words—and suddenly, Barns couldn't stop himself.

"What is the point?" he heard himself ask. Since when did he speak so quickly—or so emotionally? "We are here, we are born, and we are going to die. If there is a God, why am I here? What was the purpose? I can no longer preach His word if there are no listeners to hear it." Because that's what believers did, even if there were so few things left to believe in. He hadn't heard a Bible passage since his grandparents died—he had not seen the inside of a Catholic church for even longer.

He sat up, motioning out at the vast emptiness of the land, where nothing that mattered lived anymore. "There are no more cities to build, no temples to construct. Society has shrunk down to camps and scattered shelters. If we had a purpose, why have we been pushed to the brink like this? I believe miracles can happen—but we need more than a miracle now.

"Our time is up. All species end eventually. Our time has come sooner than we had expected—but who expects such things?" Barns laughed, the sound tinged with the hysteria building in his gut. He couldn't stop himself now. "I am alive, but perhaps, if I have any, my children will face a smaller population. And the generations after that will become smaller and smaller… until the Earth is bare and empty of human life."

Barns inhaled, gripping his arms. He had to calm down. He shouldn't have been throwing all of that out, not at Bluestreak, or anyone, really. Doubts were normal, but freaking out did nothing. Still… "Be it the drones, the environment… the end will be the same regardless," he said quietly, dipping his head to stare between his knees.

Silence fell over the three. Barns closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He really shouldn't have said those things. But he couldn't help it.

"…Those are heavy thoughts to think of when you should be asleep," Thundercracker finally said lowly. Barns looked over at him and saw the jet was giving him a guarded look.

Chuckling, Barns rubbed his arms—and the goosebumps that had appeared during his panic. "Hence the reason I am not asleep, TC," he said mirthlessly. "I am not bitter or afraid, because I know that I will be dead and buried when this all happens."

That was the truth. None of them in good conscience would try to lie to the others, even to make themselves feel better. They all knew the dangers, and ultimately, their fate. Barns smiled to himself; now he knew why they focused on their day to day problems. Thinking of the far future was terribly depressing.

Unfortunately, Bluestreak was last person to be able to honestly talk to about that far future. "Please… don't talk like that," he said, a faint mechanical whine somewhere in his voice. "I don't want to think about it." If he were a dog, the mech would have been cowering with his tail between his legs.

 _That_ image certainly sobered Barns. "I… _je suis désolé_ , Bluestreak. I did not mean to upset you," he said, meaning it. He felt bad about upsetting the sensitive mech. He laughed, looking away awkwardly. "I used to be jealous of you, you know. You guys have very long lives, probably because of what you said, that your physical shell is replaceable and not your true self, while these organic bodies are all we humans have. But…" He smiled at the ground. "Perhaps I am the one who lucked out. I will not have to see the end." Glancing over, he met Bluestreak and Thundercracker's optics. "I'm sorry for that."

He did not want to see any of his friends die. He was used to death, but only the concept. To lose people, to lose friends, family even—it was worse than the threat of losing his own life.

Bluestreak still looked upset and withdrawn. Thundercracker rumbled lowly. "You shouldn't be concerning yourself over this," he said at great length. He shrugged. "Death happens. Populations die out." Red optics pierced Barns' organic eyes. "Now is what is important, not tomorrow. Forget about it."

Smiling softly, Barns nodded. "Yes. That sounds like the best option."

Perhaps tonight had been unavoidable. Everyone had their moments to react to their situation. Barns wondered why it had taken so long for him—and why it had happened now. There was no point in wondering; there probably wasn't an answer, not a good one.

He just had to go with it.

"Besides…" Bluestreak began, his voice stronger. He smiled nervously. "I've seen how you humans grow and adapt! You guys are really tough, so who knows what will happen in the future?"

"You think?" Barns asked, tilting his head.

Bluestreak beamed, his eyes like candles in a dark room. "I hope so."

"Ha… " Barns smiled back at him, feeling just slightly lighter. "I do, too." How could anyone wish for anything else?

Thundercracker moved his legs, the sound loud and mechanical. "You should get to bed," he said. He was so good at hiding his emotions; he spoke only when needed, but it was always enough to get the message across. "You'll slow us down if you're dead on your feet tomorrow."

Nerves worn and body exhausted, Barns had to agree. It wouldn't do for him to be too tired to get up the next day. They had to move quickly. That was just the way it was. "Right, right…" Barns got up and turned, smiling at his friends. "Thank you. Both of you. I… don't know why I've been thinking like this recently."

Bluestreak reached down and patted Barns on the arm, comforting. Thundercracker glanced at him.

"Hold on to it. Hold onto Earth. Don't let go of it so easily," the jet said. Perhaps it was the exhaustion playing with Barns' hearing, but Thundercracker sounded more distant than usual. "When we lost the All Spark, we lost Cybertron, because there was no hope. Maybe… we should have had more hope than we did. Perhaps we could have found a way to fix things. But we didn't." He turned away, looking at the sky. "It was all we had, just as Earth is your legacy. Keep it."

Perhaps humanity had lost supremacy over Earth, but at least they were still on the planet. Barns smiled sadly.

"You still have a home, Thundercracker. You have a home with us," he said, meaning every word. "We all have lost our previous ones, but we have one here now. After all, the human saying is, 'home is where the heart is.'" He paused and then smiled sheepishly. "Ah… or Spark."

Thundercracker and Bluestreak stared at him, surprised. Bluestreak recovered first, smiling happily. "Thank you," he said. "Do not worry over things out of all of our control. We are alive, Barns. Focus on that and only that." He leaned down, poking the man in the chest. "It's what matters most."

Chuckling, Barns nodded. "You're right." He waved at the two, walking back to the sleeping group. "Good night, both of you."

Thundercracker rumbled and Bluestreak replied fondly, "Good night."

His blankets were cold when he finally got back to the campfire, the flames dying down slowly. Barns put more firewood onto the embers, sending sparks dancing upward in the air. Barns watched them fly higher, blending in perfectly with the night sky.

Smiling, he curled back next to Danny, his hand finding hers, and he gazed upwards, knowing he was surrounded by family.

It would never be over—the running, the fighting, the violence—

But neither would _this_.

Barns was content to live with that.

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep.

 

 _**Stars** _ **end.**

 ** _Next_ : The mechs make a new friend! This is not a good thing.**


	15. Gray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_Western Europe_

It was a wet morning. Arcee had grown resigned to the frequently fluctuating weather of the planet, but it was a constant struggle for her to deal with the aftermath of rain – whether a sudden downpour, a steady rain or even just a drizzle. Unlike her bipedal friends she had only one wheel to move with, and she was constantly fighting for traction in the mud. The humans seemed to have difficulties moving on wet terrain as well, which always led to a slow start in the mornings after a rain. No one really wanted to go anywhere. Arcee usually despised laziness, but felt it was rather forgivable on days like these.

"Come on, let's get packing," Barns was saying, crouching with a low groan to gather up his bedding. The sun was already much higher on the horizon than it usually was when they started out.

Kass sighed, gathering up the dishes they had used for breakfast. "I still have to wash these," she said.

"Wash them later," Danny replied, stretching. "It'll take too long to go down to that stream again."

Rolling up her own bedding, Rachel suddenly froze. "…Where did the tarp go?" she asked, her eyes full of alarm. She was talking about a blue blanket-like object they would use as a shield from the rain while traveling – and from the ground when they made camp that evening.

Barns looked alarmed and all of the humans immediately stood, looking around for the tarp. "Damn it," he muttered, shielding his eyes from the morning light as he gazed around the forest they were resting at. "Does anyone see it?"

The entire area, though covered with pine trees, was unfortunately rather hilly at certain levels. If the tarp had been carried off down one of the hills by the wind, it wouldn't be easy to find it from their current vantage point. Sighing, Arcee realized they wouldn't be going anywhere soon.

Rachel gritted her teeth. "Goddamn it, we need that if it starts to rain again!" she exclaimed. She looked around, biting her lip. "Fuck. Hey, Vortex, are you up for a flight real quick? We can find it faster by air."

Vortex, who had been sitting placidly next to Wheeljack on the ground, immediately tensed. Optics shooting a nervous glance behind him at two _particular_ mechs, Vortex tried to play off his hesitation as nothing. "Is it really that necessary?" he asked, harsher than was necessary. "You can get another one in the next city."

Hands on her hips and eye twitching just slightly, Rachel pursed her lips at the mech, quiet for just a moment too long. "…TC, are you up for a flight?" she asked coldly, looking over at the taller Decepticon.

The face Vortex made did not escape Arcee's sight. She wasn't sympathetic in the least; she had not been able to get around the notion of the Decepticon having an attraction to any of the humans. It was wrong on so many different levels and rather frightening in some regards. Luckily, the mech had been so cowed by Thundercracker and Jazz's reactions that he hadn't dared to bring up the topic again. No one could stop him looking though, whenever he thought no one would notice.

It could have been pitiable, the situation if it had been a different couple all together (one that was between a mech and a mech, or a human and a human). Arcee and Thundercracker both found it revolting to consider an interspecies relationship. Wheeljack tried to remain neutral on everything, to avoid arguments, and Wildrider thought it was hilarious. Bluestreak didn't seem to want to get involved at all, but Arcee had a feeling he was secretly rooting for Vortex. So far, none of the humans commented – she didn't know if they had ever noticed or picked up on Vortex singling Rachel out with his optics yet. That was all he really could do, in the end—look on from a distance.

Eventually they determined that Danny and Kass would get the camp packed up while Barns and Rachel went looking for the missing tarp. Wheeljack would drive the humans below and Thundercracker would guide their search from the air. Arcee disapproved of the waste of energy, but without the tarp to cover them, the humans would be vulnerable to the elements. They weren't as self-sufficient as the mechs were, and having the right equipment was vital to their survival.

As the search party left, Arcee glanced around the camp, trying to estimate when they would be leaving. They'd had slow days before, but it seemed like today was destined to keep them in that section of the forest. She doubted they would cover twenty-miles before setting up camp again.

Bluestreak, who had gone with Kass down to the stream to help collect water, smiled at her as he passed and Arcee nodded. Even if she was irritated about staying in one place, it was quite impossible not to extend a friendly gesture back to the younger gunner. He had an incredibly strong effect on everyone —

—as did, Wildrider unfortunately. Having seen Arcee respond to Bluestreak's wave, the red-and-black Decepticon immediately started to wave like an idiot from across the camp. Arcee glared at him, her hands twitching just slightly as she reigned in her temper as Wildrider cackled at his attempt to be amusing. He kept laughing, even after Danny slapped his knee to get him to stop.

Yes, some mechs she could have easily lived without. Wildrider added valuable extra manpower in a fight, but he constantly pushed everyone—especially Arcee—to their emotional limits. It was like the mech purposely wanted to test those limits for fun. Arcee could not fathom why the mech acted in such a ridiculous manner at times. He was very lucky the humans liked him so much.

Resting against a tree, Arcee let her processors wander. She hoped the others got back soon. She did not like staying still for so long. It was dangerous and made them targets.

Arcee loved being right—but today, she would have settled for being wrong. Unfortunately, she did not get her wish.

Handing Kass dishes to wash over the now-hot dish water, Bluestreak paused. Arcee glanced up immediately at his defensive posture, battle programming activating within seconds. The other mechs also looked to Bluestreak, prompting the remaining two humans to look at him as well in concern.

"TC hasn't come back already has he?" Bluestreak asked, physically tense.

Kass glanced at him over her shoulder. "What? He just left, like five minutes ago," she said, her eyes growing larger. "What—what's wrong?" Arcee found herself on edge as well.

"There's something on my radar," the gunner blurted, standing up straighter. He turned, facing the incline. "Something big. TC sized big." He made a gasping sound, interrupting the wave of inquiries his comment had inspired. "Everyone, get—!"

Arcee had just enough time to turn on her energy-depleting radar—and see the horribly large and frighteningly close Cybertronian figure bleep into existence in her HUD—before the entire right side of the forest seemed to shudder—and then vanish as a metal arm ripped trees from the ground.

Danny screamed and fell behind Wildrider, who had stood up at the same time as Jazz. Arcee immediately zoomed backwards, out of the way of the newcomer.

It was a huge mech, easily as large as Wheeljack, maybe taller. He looked like he had been a flier once, but his wings were only stubs now. He was built like a frontliner, however, with his heavy armor and melee weaponry. Purple paint was faded from his damaged, but still-intact armor, and red eyes stood out hauntingly from his black face—

— _Red eyes?_

A Decepticon. They had attracted him with their noise and their own signals. Arcee, had she lungs, would have been holding her breath, waiting for movement. Training urged her to take the offensive—

 _But what if he is like Vortex and Wildrider?_ a daring traitorous thought asked. Perhaps, perhaps they should talk first. It had been forever since they had met another mech. They had to approach this carefully, she logically reasoned. There were more of them than this new mech, she reminded herself. Maybe they could just talk—

Vortex moved beside her, looking strangely surprised. " _Blitzwing_?" he sputtered in Cybertronian, optics huge.

The new mech whirled around to face him, equally startled, and then, he looked behind him. Directly at Arcee and Jazz.

"Oh, slag," Vortex managed to say before all hell broke loose.

Blitzwing, as he was called, apparently did not like the idea of the Autobots being there. With a violent roar, he was already transforming his limbs into two separate cannons. Arcee barely dodged the series of plasma blasts that were fired her way. Jazz rolled out of the way just in time as Blitzwing took a swing at him.

The Decepticon had no reason to be mindful of his steps. He stomped the campfire and most of their pans out of existence and then noticed Kass and Danny who were trying to flee the warzone. Arcee's spark twisted in terror when the Decepticon's attention refocused on the organics. Kass screamed and ducked as his cannons pointed downward. Bluestreak dashed out and grabbed the human, dodging out of the way as Blitzwing began to fire. Arcee knew there was no choice now—they had to fight.

Engines roaring, she dodged a canon blast and began to fire a counter volley. The purple and beige Decepticon roared and Arcee almost thought she had somehow gone back in time, to when the world made sense and these mechs were her enemies.

She was severely disappointed when her _allies_ charged after their attacker with an equal amount of fury. These _allies_ were not Autobots, nor were they Neutrals or even humans. They were Decepticons… who were now fighting back against one of their own. Vortex was firing from a distance and Wildrider had come charging down from the hill where he had been resting behind Jazz and lunged after Blitzwing the moment he realized Blitzwing wanted no part of their peace.

Arcee didn't have time to think about their factions now, however. Blitzwing spouted curses in their own language and dove out of sight, down the path he had come from. Arcee heard more crashing as Jazz flew down after him—he was headed after Bluestreak and the children—but the sound of Jazz shouting out in pain prompted Arcee to propel herself down the steep incline as fast as she could.

Wildrider shot past her, screeching furiously. Arcee hurried after him, rocks hindering her path, her gaze set.

The idea of Decepticon allies—especially when it came to fighting against another Decepticon—bothered her beyond words. But the sound of Bluestreak's pained and terrified warble made her completely forget the fact she was working with Decepticons—both she and Vortex leapt down into the forest without a moment's hesitation.

 **00000**

This was by far _not_ how Bluestreak wanted to spend his day.

He had not met another mech outside their group since he and Kass had joined it. In fact, he was pretty sure that none of them had met any others of their kind since then. Humans were few and far between, but still far more commonly seen than a mech or femme. When he thought of it, Bluestreak usually felt incredibly depressed over that fact.

Not today though. Today, he would have taken the lonely sensation of being the last of their kind over _this_.

Bluestreak heard the forest behind him erupt in noise as Jazz attacked Blitzwing. The sounds of tree limbs breaking grew louder; it was clear that a swath of the forest was being decimated as the battle raged closer. Falling over debris and nearly hitting Kass against a tree, he marveled at the fact that she was still alive. Danny had managed to cut sideways and out of harm's way, but Kass was still with him, and could have easily died at any point in their headlong rush down the hill. Blitzwing seemed poised on taking out all of them, organics included.

But that was not going to happen, not if Bluestreak had anything to say about it. He slid to a stop at the bottom of the incline, desperately trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the sounds of violence headed their way.

"Run! Run, run, run!" Bluestreak shrieked, shoving Kass towards the trees sideways away from the clearing at the bottom of the hill. He would face the incoming Decepticon from the edge of the clearing, keep his attention away from Kass and Danny. Jazz would hold him off long enough for the girls to get away. "Don't stop, find Danny, and get out of here! Find Wheeljack and Thundercracker."

"What about you?" Kass screamed, falling backwards over a rock.

"Just go!" Bluestreak whirled around, processors racing. He had to get to a vantage point. Optics swerving over the clearing, he saw several over turned logs. It would have to do. He dashed forward, past the cover of the pines—

And nearly got crushed by two mechs falling down the hill entwined with each other. Bluestreak yelped and dodged the two forms. Cybertronian curses filled the air as the two slammed into the earth. Bluestreak's spark filled with fear as he saw Jazz be lifted and then slammed back down with crushing force. Blitzwing was vicious, a true Decepticon.

Oh, _Primus_ , where was Thundercracker… ? !

Bluestreak immediately started to fire at Blitzwing, whose last punch seemed to render Jazz stunned. Blitzwing roared in pain and then turned. Bluestreak realized he was too close, saw the danger in attracting the Decepticon's attention, but it was too late. A purple and black hand grabbed his leg and he felt the weaker metal of his ankle plating crush beneath the powerful grip. He shouted more of out surprise than fear, but Blitzwing didn't give him the chance to react.

Hands and a well-aimed plasma blast caught him at the same time. Bluestreak's HUD was immediately swarming with warnings and pain streaked through his systems. He tried to hit back, to bring up his weapon, but all it took was one firm yank on his doorwings—and he was down.

He had thought he'd experienced pain before, but the slamming of Blitzwing's fists coupled with his crippled doorwings was beyond anything Bluestreak had ever suffered. It was too much—he couldn't do anything to stop it.

He was going to die. Warnings were flashing already and Bluestreak knew the mech on top of him wasn't going to stop. The Decepticon was willing to fight to the death—preferably Bluestreak's death, which seemed likely to be soon. Fear and pain ravaged Bluestreak's processors and he tried to push the larger mech off, but the hits just kept coming. He heard cannons charging—

But the explosive pain he was expecting never came. Instead of hearing his own armor shatter, he heard a roar—Wildrider's roar.

Red and black seemed to flash into Bluestreak's line of sight, erasing Blitzwing's beige body from his vision and then disappearing out of sight. Bluestreak struggled to turn over and he was sure his doorwing had been torn clean off, because he was listing to one side. Sight blinded temporarily by pain and HUD warnings, he almost missed the fight to the death happening only yards away.

Wildrider had always been the first to leap into a fight, but he had never come out superior in any of their previous battles. He was too crazy and out of touch with reality. He would take a lot of severe hits early in a battle and then have to fall back, only instinct ensuring his survival.

But this…this time was apparently different.

Metal shrieked as black fists pummeled the foreign mech below him—Wildrider showed no mercy as he ripped Blitzwing's shoulder cannons right off of his body, crushing dented plates, hurling them aside as he dug clawed fingertips deeper into fragile systems. Blitzwing put up a violent counterattack, punching Wildrider directly in the optic once. It barely made Wildrider flinch.

Decepticons really were the toughest warriors, Bluestreak realized. He had thought that was propaganda, but he believed it now. It was a miracle the Autobot forces had even lasted against mechs like these.

Wildrider had boasted that he had been designed to take any physical hit and return one twice as hard. It seemed like the truth, watching this. Blitzwing was far larger, but Wildrider's sheer fury and unrestrained violence gave the red-and-black mech the upper hand. Metal was yanked from metal and Blitzwing's screams of anger turned into screams of pain. Energon splashed, burning the grass. Wildrider tore into the underside of Blitzwing's armor and sparks shot up into the air.

Briefly, Bluestreak realized he should be reacting. Thankfully, the others were not so shell-shocked. Jazz was still on the ground, but Arcee and Vortex had finally gotten down the hill. Once on level ground and out of the forest, Arcee's speed was unmatched by any of the other mechs; she tore forward and began to fire on the downed Blitzwing. The one blast jostled Wildrider enough that Blitzwing could kick him off and Wildrider retreated with a snarl. Vortex joined the fray, firing multiple bursts at the attacking Decepticon, throwing the half-standing Blitzwing flat on the ground.

The distant sound of a jet engine confirmed Bluestreak's belief that the fight was over. He tried to stand, but his ankle joint was unresponsive now. He sat upright, observing the carnage that had unfolded just yards away from him. Arcee had stopped firing once Blitzwing had fallen again, but Vortex took no chances. He had sliced the back of the Decepticon wide open with his propeller blades, and now stood, hunched over his kill like some kind of elite marksman inspecting another demolished target.

Bluestreak shuddered.

"He's dead," Arcee said, her voice hard. It was a startling sound to hear after all of that fighting.

Thundercracker and Wheeljack arrived simultaneously, the jet landing with a heavy thud in the middle of the clearing near Jazz. At the top of the hill, Wheeljack quickly let Rachel and Barns out—tarp in hand, but clearly both freaking out over the sight they had come back to—before transforming.

"What happened?" Thundercracker demanded angrily. Jazz was rising slowly in front of him, visor very obviously cracked.

"Well, besides gettin' my aft handed t' me, we made a friend," Jazz said, his voice tight. He accepted Thundercracker's arm for support and looked past Bluestreak. The saboteur made a face. "Oh, yikes."

Bluestreak, feeling quite numb, barely noticed the arrival of the humans. It was a miracle of Primus he had been able to get Kass away from Blitzwing at all. He was beyond grateful that she and Danny had gotten to cover and had not tried to join in on the fight. Kass was a brilliant fighter against the drones… but Blitzwing was no mindless machine.

Suddenly, Bluestreak really missed the drones. At least they were easy to dispatch in a group, as long as the swarm wasn't too large. It had been too long since they had been forced to fight one of their own kind—far too long.

"Oh, God, that's…" he heard Danny whisper. Arcee was taking charge of explaining to the newcomers what had happened. Wheeljack was busy making sure Jazz was alright and Thundercracker was exchanging a quick discussion with Vortex over what had happened from his perspective.

"We had no choice. He was out to kill," Vortex said bluntly. Bluestreak agreed; Blitzwing had not been looking for peace. He had reacted like a cornered animal. They shouldn't have given him that initial time to get an upper hand, believing he would listen if they attempted to reason with him. It had been beyond stupid.

Wheeljack looked aggrieved. "We are so few… why did he not yield? This was a wasteful death," the scientist said quietly, mournfully. He had crouched near Bluestreak, earfins displaying a myriad of colors. "Bluestreak, are you alright?"

Words failed him. Bluestreak stared at the scientist and then his gaze wandered back out onto the battlefield beyond. Vortex and Thundercracker stood like grim statues over Blitzwing's body. There was no life in the mech now; his red eyes were gray.

Wheeljack was right—there were too few Cybertronians now, of either faction. What had they done? Trembling, Bluestreak barely acknowledged Wheeljack getting to work on his injuries. He was trapped there, staring at Blitzwing's body, wondering if he should have tried harder to convince the mech that they weren't his enemies. Maybe if they had just—

Movement made him flinch. Beyond Thundercracker, another form was moving slowly. A startled sound escaped Bluestreak's vocalizer.

"Wildrider!" he exclaimed, startling Wheeljack.

Grim _what-ifs_ and regrets were instantly replaced by concern. Wildrider was alive, but from what Bluestreak could tell, he was bleeding profusely. Gaping holes in his armor, exposed wires, covered with energon from himself and the other mech—Wildrider looked fearsome and pathetic all at the same time. His one optic was flickering on and off and he had a strangely calm look on his faceplates.

"Holy slag—'Rider, you okay, man?" Jazz asked, alarmed.

Everyone had reacted to Bluestreak's cry and were now focused on the red-and-black mech who staggered closer. Wildrider almost tripped over Blitzwing's arm, but stumbled past him, dodging a hesitating Vortex, and made it about another ten feet before collapsing. He rolled on his side and managed to sit up, engines revving. He was alive, but just that, it seemed.

"Hold on, Blue, Wildrider needs—," Wheeljack began hurriedly as an excuse. He stood and headed over to the sports car. Bluestreak didn't mind the scientist taking care of Wildrider first. After all, the mech had—

Bluestreak paused, optics opening just slightly wider than normal.

Wildrider had saved his life.

"Several of your main energon lines have been nicked by shrapnel," Wheeljack was saying. He turned, earfins flashing. "Kass! I'll need your help!"

"Right!" Kass shouted, her voice cracking. She was rummaging through her bags. "I-I'll get my gloves! Be r-right there!"

Bluestreak watched as their medical team tackled the mess Wildrider's assault had left him with. It wasn't that serious, Wheeljack kept saying. Just another patch-up. It had been a stupid, suicidal move, Vortex added. Arcee hung back, shaking her head and muttering about insanity, bravery and fearlessness. Everyone was talking, either in a fervor about how Blitzwing had attacked them, or in hushed voices about Wildrider's counter-attack.

His memory files confirmed what he thought had happened, but he was having trouble accepting it. It was so surreal.

"You saved me," Bluestreak said quietly, his voice full of wonder.

He had always tried to get along with everyone in their group. Vortex had probably been the most difficult to approach, or at least it felt like it. Everyone else tolerated his talking—Bluestreak did admit he liked to talk maybe a tad too much—but it clearly set Vortex on edge. Wildrider, who could be just as chatty, had tolerated it, even encouraged it on days when he was particularly unhinged. They didn't always have things to talk about, considering they came from such different backgrounds, but Bluestreak was confident that they were good acquaintances.

But it still amazed him that Wildrider had nearly sacrificed himself to save him. They really had nothing in common besides an ability to talk and listen. Wildrider was a Decepticon and Bluestreak was an Autobot. Perhaps… if it had been Jazz or Arcee who had gotten Blitzwing off of Bluestreak, it would have made more sense. Or if Wildrider had just attacked Blitzwing right there, and hadn't driven the larger mech away from Bluestreak.

But… he hadn't. He had saved Bluestreak. And in the process, he'd gotten himself slagged instead.

…This made no sense.

Wheeljack kept working late into the day. Any hope of traveling to another location was quickly replaced with immediate concerns, such as repairing the injured mechs, finding enough organic material to make up energon and rebuilding the camp. Thankfully, only Jazz, Bluestreak and Wildrider had been injured. Once Wildrider was stable enough for Wheeljack to manage alone, Kass helped to patch Bluestreak's leaking energon lines, re-wire his ankle and solder the metal back in place, but his doorwings were beyond her skills. Wheeljack would repair the torn one as soon as he could, but with daylight fading after a day of repairing Wildrider, it would have to wait. For the time being, standing up would be a challenge. Bluestreak felt he would never take his doorwings for granted again; he'd forgotten how much they were second eyes and a source of equilibrium for him.

Bluestreak didn't actually mind though.

It seemed like forever before he had the strength to move closer to where Wildrider lay. Jazz and Wheeljack were talking softly about the medical end of things, and Wildrider seemed ready to drift into recharge at any moment, optics barely open. Walking over as quietly as his injured leg would allow, Bluestreak stood by, hesitating. Wildrider never even looked at him.

"You saved me, Wildrider," Bluestreak said, gazing down at the mech, amazement still shining in his optics. He still couldn't believe it.

"Ngh." Wildrider did not look interested in explaining his actions or even hearing Bluestreak's view on the whole matter.

"But… you're a Decepticon," Bluestreak said, voice quieter than he had been expecting it to sound.

Wildrider sent him a long side-glance. "So?" the unstable mech drawled. He shuttered his optics, unnaturally calm. "You are Autobot. Congratulations."

Bluestreak didn't know what he'd been expecting to hear. An excuse. Or a lie. Or something. He prided himself on being more open-minded than Arcee or Vortex were about their inter-factional unit, but it was still disturbing to realize he now owed his life to a Decepticon. This was different than taking a single hit from a drone, or warning each other on a battlefield of an incoming strike.

This was far more personal.

Wheeljack motioned for Bluestreak step back, to let Wildrider rest. Bluestreak frowned, wanting answers, but he knew the mech deserved the rest. If they could get moving again by morning, it'd be another miracle, to be sure.

Turning, Bluestreak almost yelped when a clawed hand latched onto his injured ankle. Whirling around he lost his balance and nearly fell, his injured doorwing forgotten in his panic. The gunner found himself staring at Wildrider, who was suddenly alert, struggling to sit upright.

"'Rider?" Jazz asked, moving in curiously from the side, visor still cracked.

A strange sound escaped Wildrider's vocalizer before he released Bluestreak's leg, letting him move back. Wildrider looked to the side, optics varying in intensity, before he looked right back up at Bluestreak, pinning him with his gaze.

"I am gray, you are gray, vhen dead ve all have gray optics. Vorld… vorld is gray place, too gray for color," Wildrider was muttering. He looked up, now at Jazz and Wheeljack. He looked… entranced by something. "No color, no faction, no Autobots, no Decepticons. I am no Decepticon. I am Wildrider."

He stopped and lay back down harshly, staring at Bluestreak again. His red eyes made Bluestreak's spark shudder.

"I am Wildrider," the damaged mech said again, sounding far too distant and far too quiet.

Bluestreak didn't know what to say. He didn't want the Decepticon to say he wasn't a Decepticon—after all, that justified a lot of things, like not trusting the mech completely, or separating them into mental groups of 'friend' and merely 'ally.' But after a day like this had been… Bluestreak felt his spark twist. Perhaps if anything, Wildrider had earned the right to change identities in Bluestreak's processors—from _Decepticon_ to just… Wildrider.

That seemed fair—and strangely right.

For the second night, the group settled into the forest, but Bluestreak did not go over to the humans' side of the fire. He remained standing next to Wildrider, who seemed to be having problems getting into recharge. Bluestreak couldn't stop staring down at the other mech, who had fallen quiet after his small speech, and had not responded to Bluestreak's presence.

After about an hour, Wildrider apparently decided that was enough. "Vant something, Autobot?" the injured mech finally demanded, irritated.

Bluestreak stared down at the mech, his processors working over some complex ideas he had been considering for that long, silent hour. He thought about Wildrider's bravery and his actions. There was a lot to consider—but Bluestreak knew what he wanted to do next.

"You know what this means, 'Rider?" he asked quietly, tilting his head gently.

Wildrider's good optic roved to Bluestreak's faceplates. "Vhat?" he asked gruffly, clearly exhausted.

That couldn't stop Bluestreak from smiling cheerfully, however. "We're friends," he said. He was sure of it.

Wildrider didn't look too convinced. "…Friends?" he repeated, sounding like Bluestreak had just said something both unintelligent and alarming.

"Yes!" Bluestreak replied earnestly, crouching lower. He smiled brightly at the injured mech, resolute in his decision. "I would like to be your friend."

Because friends saved friends. Friends did crazy things to help each other. The humans had taught him this early on. Friends loved each other as brothers—and that mattered when you were fighting for your life. This revelation made Bluestreak happy.

The mech lying on the ground before him gave him a long, disturbed stare before something seemed to turn on inside his processors. "…You are an idiot." Wildrider burst into a static-filled laugh, grin crazed but not too disturbed. "Fine. Fine. Ve are _friends_."

He laughed again. Bluestreak smiled weakly, knowing that some wounds could not be fixed for Wildrider. But he wasn't that crazy, and he was certainly on their side. Even if the others had their doubts, Bluestreak suddenly knew he could trust Wildrider.

They had lost another mech that day. Every Transformer lost was a tragedy, faction unimportant now. Bluestreak wished it hadn't happened, but it did. And now, he had gotten something else out of the tragedy: a friend. Compared to energon or another mech—

That was the rarest thing on Earth.

Smiling brightly, Bluestreak sat down beside Wildrider and offlined his optics, content. He didn't flinch when Wildrider settled back down and let his helm touch Bluestreak's armor.

Perhaps today had not been a total loss.

 

 _**Gray** _ **end. (They are so BFFs, amirite?)**

 **Next: A glitch in the energon converter has dire consequences…**


	16. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Europe  
2050_

Another day, another noon. Jazz was pretty sure every day felt and looked the same, when there wasn't any precipitation. Just slightly chilly, the sun almost faded from sight, and the ground a sickly combination of green and brown. Sometimes they'd get lucky and find a spot that was beginning to show signs of healthy vegetation. One time, they found flowers. It was always a silent plea from the more excitable members of their group to find more growth in the next spot, but there was no real way to know.

Stopping for lunch, Jazz was mildly disappointed to see there were only trees and small shrubs. It was better than nothing, but he missed color. Earth had been so vibrant before; he wished that the humans in their midst had been able to see the fragile glory of spring and summer blooms. Some things just couldn't happen, however.

On one of the edges of their temporary camp, Jazz sat down and watched the others for a while. The humans were busy getting their own meal together and Bluestreak had helped them make a small fire to heat it up. The sounds of laughter made him smile and he wanted to join in on the conversation (it was something about sports; he just loved human entertainment).

Instead, he retrieved the energon converter from Wheeljack and set about making himself and Arcee their own breakfast. They had been on watch duty from one until dawn. They had had very little time and the group had gotten off to a late start, so both he and Arcee chose to postpone their meal until lunch. He waved over Arcee and began to work on the converter. They were so lucky that they had found Wheeljack those many years ago—so fragging lucky.

"Can I offer you a drink, ma'am?" Jazz asked, grinning up at the femme as he handed her a finished cube.

Arcee sighed, smiling. She accepted the cube. "Thank you, Jazz."

Jazz grinned and tipped his own drink toward her before gulping the liquid down. He was used to drinking quickly, so he almost missed the odd tingle the energon left all the way down his intake pipes.

The femme in front of him flinched suddenly. " _Ugh_. This is very… strong." Arcee frowned down at him and then stared down at the empty cube in her hands. "Did you do anything to the converter?"

Looking down at the white device, Jazz frowned, puzzled. "Huh? Uh… no, not tha' I'm aware of." It did _burn_ a bit more than it should have. They definitely would have to tell Wheeljack about that, if this thing was acting up. Jazz picked up the converter and smiled fondly. "Slag, this thing is so old, ha. I remember th' first time 'Jack showed it t' us. I thought I had died and went t' heaven, lemme tell you."

"Yes. The energy sources on this planet leave much to be desired," Arcee replied, sighing. She suddenly looked pained, glancing toward the scientist of their group, lowering her voice slightly. "We should tell Wheeljack to adjust that later on. We don't need some of our more rambunctious companions attempting to make high-grade."

 _That_ made Jazz laugh. "Oh, _Primus_." He grinned, unashamed. "Come on, Arcee, you gotta admit, it'd be hilarious to see TC drunk." _He_ certainly wouldn't mind that. "Or Wildrider. You know? I bet 'Rider could hold his liquor."

"His what?" Arcee asked, frowning. She shook her helm, giving up on the mech, whom she knew joked around a lot. "Never mind. I would not want to see him overcharged, ever. I do not think Earth could recover from that. Nor I."

Jazz grinned. "Maybe that's the key to defeating the drones. Just get a mech like him wound up and let him at 'em."

Arcee shook her head, smiling. She got up and drove away, moving around the reclining humans at the campfire, before going up to Barns. Jazz smiled as he watched the two continue their conversation from this morning. Both had seemed to find comfort in each other after the loss of their individual families. Arcee wasn't the most easy-going of their group, but Barns could unwind anyone if he wanted to. Jazz was happy they had been able to form a friendship so quickly.

His smile unconsciously became a frown when a warning popped up on his HUD. He noticed his fans were running hotter than normal, but he figured it was because of the stronger energon. He hadn't had high grade in… slag, he didn't even know. Getting up slowly, Jazz winced as his storage tank seethed in reaction to the energon. He was either going to get a crazy hangover or purge; he would have taken the former, even if it would hinder his processors. Purging was horrible.

Wrapped up with monitoring his interior heat levels, Jazz almost didn't notice Thundercracker walk up to him. "Are you finished with this?" the larger mech asked, picking up the converter. "Vortex and I need to refuel."

"Yeah, yeah, s'all yours." Jazz wavered, literally, on his feet, and motioned his hand at Thundercracker, stopping him. "Ah, wait. Give it t'Wheeljack." There was definitely something off about it today.

Thundercrack paused, confused. "Why?"

"The energon was a little off tastin'," Jazz replied. His fans were running at their highest level and he was still feeling overheated. "He should look at it, t' be safe."

Turning, Jazz saw a tree at the edge of the clearing. He needed to sit down and cool off. It was almost bittersweet for him now; he used to be able to drink high grade without any problem. This was almost embarrassing…

"Where are you going?" the jet called after him, frowning.

Jazz turned, waving his hand. "Gonna lay down. My pipes feel weird." He didn't want to worry Thundercracker too much. He had the habit of overreacting.

Thundercracker snorted. "Lazy." Jazz didn't have to look up at his mate; he could hear the smug smirk in Thundercracker's voice. "You just want an excuse to recharge. I told you to take first shift last night."

"Haa… you see through me too easily, m'friend," Jazz joked. He hoped he could make it over to the tree without falling. That would be embarrassing and he'd have to explain what had happened. Wildrider and Vortex would probably insist on trying the batch, and they _really_ didn't need to be experimenting with the energon now. He couldn't help but grimace, however, and look back at Thundercracker hesitantly. "Ugh. Honestly, though? I feel kinda weird," he said, gripping at his chestplates. He smiled, trying to be calm about it.

A look of concern flashed across Thundercracker's faceplates. "We're leaving in an hour," he warned, but also sounded questioning, as if asking Jazz if he needed to wait longer.

Perhaps he did need the rest, but Jazz wasn't going to be holding everyone back. "Yeah, yeah." He grinned at the jet, trying to keep steady. His chest was beginning to tingle _quite_ unpleasantly. "Wake me when we're gettin' ready t'leave."

Thundercracker shook his helm. "Don't strain yourself sitting down."

Jazz laughed, the sound warbling. "Right. I guess—I…," he started to say, but failed.

Everything—the sky, his tanks, his vision—lurched upwards. Jazz had the vague recollection of falling forward, but he was more concerned by the sudden blaze of heat that streaked through his chest. His spark flailed helplessly as the heat slammed against it and Jazz thought he was on fire, from the inside out.

"Jazz—?" he heard a voice call, but it was too late now.

He hit the ground and everything went black.

 **0000**

The loud thud and following clang of metal made Thundercracker jump. He whirled around in alarm and saw the prone figure of Jazz sprawled out on the ground, helm having narrowly missing slamming into a log.

"Jazz?" he asked, getting no reply.

Thundercracker would later berate himself for immediately thinking Jazz was joking. He pulled pranks, often ones that went too far, or wavered dangerously into a level of emotional abuse. It wouldn't be past Jazz to think throwing himself to the ground to prove his point about feeling unwell.

But something was off, something unnatural about his pose. Immediately dropping the converter, Thundercracker marched over to Jazz and stared down at the mech. Jazz didn't move.

Thundercracker heard vague things in the background, mostly Barns speaking to Arcee, but he was focusing his entire attention on the mech in front of him.

Something was wrong.

Bending down, Thundercracker reached out, grabbing Jazz by the shoulder. Upon doing so, Thundercracker almost yelled.

Jazz was hot—physically burning, nearly a hundred-degrees hotter than his normal operating temperature. Thundercracker hissed, removing his hand, the burning not hurting as much as shaking him to the core.

This was _not_ good.

"Jazz, get up," he snapped, now beginning to feel panicked. Jazz only groaned and Thundercracker found himself grabbing the smaller mech, hauling him into a seated position. It did little to help and Jazz was just dead weight against his legs. Thundercracker tried to shake the mech, but there was no response at all. _Oh, Primus, no, no, no—_

"Arcee— _Arcee_!" he heard Barnaby shout.

Suddenly, everything in the camp dissolved into chaos. Apparently, someone had found Arcee in a similar position as Jazz, because there were dozens of shouted questions of concern and confusion being thrown around. Thundercracker was more concerned with Jazz, who was now trembling. Oh, _Primus_ , this was not good.

"What's wrong? Is she—oh, my god, _Jazz_!" Rachel shrieked. In an instant, she was dashing over to Thundercracker's side. " _Jesus Christ_ —he's—he's sick too?" She tried to touch his side and gasped, reeling back, when she felt the heat emanating from his burning plating. "Oh, _God_ , why is he so hot?"

" _Wheeljack_!" Thundercracker roared, turning around. He was trying to keep track of the flurry of conversations— _Is Arcee okay? Why is she so hot? What, did Jazz just collapse, too?_ —and run his own diagnostics. Jazz was conscious, but unresponsive. He was too slagging hot; his fans weren't operating.

"Stand back!" Wheeljack shouted over the fray, sidestepping a frantic Barns and he practically shoved Wildrider away from Arcee, who was also on the ground, her pink form barely visible past the rows of mech legs. "Move away, let me through!"

"Wheeljack, Jazz is down, too!" Rachel screamed, visibly beginning to panic.

Thundercracker sank to the ground, trying to balance the mech in his arms, feeling the first pangs of his own hysteria forming. This was impossible. For this to happen didn't make any sense—

"Let me see, let me see!" Kass was saying loudly, trying to make herself louder than the shouting from the other side of the camp. "TC, what happened? Did you see?"

"He was going to lay down! Don't touch him! He's really hot!" Thundercracker snapped back, trembling. The human was trying to touch Jazz's chestplates, but immediately had to retrieve her leather work gloves, the metal was so hot. "Primus, I have no idea! He and the femme made energon. He said he didn't feel well and the energon didn't taste right. Then he collapsed!"

"How much time was in between?" Wheeljack shouted over from his spot next to Arcee, taking out several devices Thundercracker didn't recognize.

" _Primus_ —I don't know! Fifteen—twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, about that," Barns said, almost as pale as Rachel was. He ran his hand through his hair, exasperated as Wheeljack opened Arcee's plating. "I saw them—but they were with us the whole time. Nothing happened!"

"Poisoned?" Wildrider suddenly blurted. His optics were shining even brighter than normal, as they usual did when he was distressed, and he was just staring at Arcee, transfixed.

Bluestreak looked horrified. "By who?"

"The converter!" Vortex snapped irritably, glaring openly at the white device still sitting yards away, where Thundercracker had left it.

"How? We've been using it for years!" Thundercracker snarled angrily. Kass had gotten Jazz's plating open and was staring at the maze of mech innards with a look of vague horror, clearly trying to understand a science she wasn't knowledgeable about.

Wheeljack was giving Arcee his full attention, running scans, plugging his own interface cord to hers to try to gain access to her internal readings. "It is possible," he said, distracted. "But that's not the issue right now! No one use the converter until I check it, but for now, we have to cool them down!"

"The lake!" Danny exclaimed, causing Bluestreak to jump next to her. She pointed wildly at the body of water past the forest edge. "It's probably still cold from the melting ice!"

"Something inside them is causing the overheating," Wheeljack replied hastily, though he did cast the lake a hesitant glance. "Cooling their exterior will only temporarily halt the heat, but it's not the outside I'm worried about. The heat is beginning to melt the softer metal inside their chests and if we wait too long, it could spread into their energon lines!"

" _Slag_!" Thundercracker glanced back down at Jazz, fear gripping wildly at his spark. They couldn't risk that sort of damage—they had no supplies for extensive interior repairs, not in a place like this. They'd need a full out medical wing to do it properly, with real medics.

Jazz could not die on him, not now…!

"Can we get the bad energon out of them?" Kass yelled from Jazz's side.

"It's their blood, they can't just flush it out!" Rachel snapped, eyes shining.

Barns whirled on Wheeljack, eyes wide. "Then use a transfusion!" he said, tapping at the interior of his own arm. "Dump the bad energon, send fresh energon in from a tap from another mech! _Travaillerait_ - _il_?"

"Yes, yes – that might work," Wheeljack replied, distractedly. " _Primus help me!_ I have no tools!" Wheeljack moved quicker than Thundercracker had ever seen the scientist move before. "Okay… I-I need a few minutes to get the right sort of piping. Once we get their tanks empty, if the tanks are still intact, they're going to need energon to help fix the tank damage, so one of us is going to have to—"

"Me, I'll do it," Wildrider immediately volunteered, holding his arms out in front of him.

"It will be safest to use the lowest low-grade we can get. Wildrider, you just fueled this morning – right? I can't take the energon directly from your storage tanks," Wheeljack replied, busy with retrieving items from his subspace. "There has to be time for your energon to convert to low-grade." He looked over at the others. "Who fueled first last night?"

"Me!" Bluestreak said, moving closer, holding his arms out in the same way. He looked terrified. "Wheeljack, they aren't _dying_ are they? Please, don't let them die! Here! Take some of my energon!"

"I can donate," Thundercracker added, still shaking. He gripped Jazz tighter to him. "Hurry up, Wheeljack!"

"I'm _trying_!" the scientist cried, indeed moving as quickly as he could.

Kass was still trying to see into Jazz's chest. "The energon is probably still in their storage tanks, so we have to empty that out first," she rattled off, eyes focused, but her voice shaking. "Like a suction pump, we gotta—we gotta make some sort of suction pump to drain and then use your transfer lines to send them the fresh stuff t-to fix their tanks."

If it were any other time, Thundercracker would have been impressed at how much the woman had learnt from Wheeljack over the past couple of years. They could applaud her efforts later, however—there was no time for anything now.

"No! Just siphon it! Like a car!" Barns shouted, rushing over to her. He had a long black pipe, bendable—where it had come from, Thundercracker didn't know. He wasn't going to ask, when they were busy trying to save the two Transformers simultaneously. He wished Wheeljack was the one working on Jazz, however… "Kass, quick, can you open the tank manually?"

"I—I think so, but is that tube going to be able to handle the energon?" Kass asked, eyes wide.

"We'll find out!" Barns said, grinning, though he looked ill. "Let's hurry before this actually gets serious, yes?"

Thundercracker quickly got to work helping. He got Jazz onto the ground and Kass found a release valve. Her gloves steamed at the touch of the energon, which was popping and fizzing, too potent to be held in the tank. This is why high grade had to be properly manufactured, Thundercracker realized numbly; energon was their life source, but it could easily become a self-destructive mess that even their dense interiors could not handle.

"Siphoning, siphoning…okay, put this end all the way down into the tank," Barns instructed hurriedly. "We need suction from something, because I doubt it would be prudent to try to suck it out ourselves." The energon could easily burn their skin off.

"Yeah, bad idea is bad," Rachel said, looking sick. She was at Jazz's right side, hands reaching out in desperation to help.

"We don't have a vacuum though!" Kass suddenly blurted, looking around. There was no time to invent one or try to backtrack to the last city to find one.

"Thrusters," Thundercracker grunted. He lifted his leg, offering. "I'll use heat to create a vacuum and pull the energon up."

Kass hesitated. "Won't that use up your energon? Do you have enough?"

There was no time to debate it. "I have a much larger tank than him, so I can outlast the transfer rate. Just do it!" Thundercracker said, opening his chestplates.

"Alright, let's go."

In the midst of all of this, Thundercracker vaguely realized he was doing all of this—he was worried to _death_ —for an _Autobot_. That thought was promptly swept away with the torrent of fear and concern that his spark could not contain. He loved Jazz—he and Rachel were all Thundercracker had left to consider family. Losing either—losing _Jazz_ —was unacceptable. It was terrifying to contemplate being alone again.

The siphoning was easily started, and soon the glowing blue energon was spilling out onto the grass. Barns and Kass had to quickly jump out of the way of the liquid and the grass instantly burned, withering away as the energon moved like an acid on the terrain. Thundercracker winced as the smoke rose; it was not supposed to be that corrosive. That had been inside of the mechs? It was no wonder it was causing their internal temperatures to rise.

"Okay, are you ready to transfer?" Kass asked, looking over at him, sweat pouring form her skin, her eyes red and skin flushed from the heat of Jazz's chassis and the expelled energon. When all of this was done, the mechs owed Barns and Kass a huge thank you.

Thundercracker nodded and they began to siphon his own energon—the pain of breaking the plating to get to a line unimportant now—into Jazz's energon storage tank.

"It's all corroded…" Kass muttered, risking a glance into Jazz's tank. She bit her lip and looked ill. "Your body would have diluted the energon going in, so even the weakened metal should hold it all. It'll help heal the burns faster… I think."

"Most likely," Barns answered, eyes closed as he held the reverse tube steady.

Kass, focusing on monitoring the energon, spared him a quick glance. "Where did you find the tubing?" she asked. Thundercracker had thought it odd that they had it as well, but he wasn't about to question a miracle.

"Ah…Wheeljack and I were collecting parts for a while. I wanted to see if we could make a better energon converter, if we ever got more parts." Barns grinned "Nice timing, right?"

"Poor timing," Rachel snapped. She let her head drop against Thundercracker's leg, shuddering. "Christ on a bike, that was way too close. My God."

Thundercracker rumbled and couldn't help but agree. They spent so much time worried about getting attacked or running out of food—no one was expecting their own equipment to create a hazard. He knew Jazz was going to laugh over it all later, but it was enough to give the jet nightmares.

"What even happened?" Danny asked, shivering. She had insisted on holding Arcee's hand, even though it was twice the size of her own and had been wrapped in a blanket to protect her from it's heat. "I didn't think it mattered what kind of energon you guys ate. I mean, it's all the same, right?"

"The only explanation I can think of is that the converter's calibration was off and they made a batch that was unrefined by mistake," Wheeljack replied, shaking his head as he worked diligently on Arcee's tank. "High-grade energon needs to be carefully made. If it is not refined properly, then it is extremely corrosive. But even worse is the systemic effect – unrefined or poorly refined high grade that is introduced into our systems in high concentration or without the proper buffering agents will combine with other chemicals in our … blood, I guess is the best term. This can produce a series of chemical reactions that are toxic to us."

"Primus, you guys sound like us," Danny joked, laughing weakly. "Major heartburn from too much spicy food."

"More like radioactive toxic waste," Rachel muttered.

"Not radioactive, Rachel. Corrosive and thermally active, but unlikely to cause you ionizing damage," Wheeljack corrected as he adjusted the energon feed from Thundercracker to Jazz.

Bluestreak was staring down at Arcee as his own energon replaced the batch she had lost. "I've never drank high-grade before," he began, shaking his helm slowly, "but I really, really don't want to try it now."

Wildrider was watching everything with an intense, unwavering stare. Thundercracker didn't quite understand why the mech was so attached to the people who feared or hated him the most—Kass and Arcee and to a lesser extent, Bluestreak—but he was definitely aware of what was going on around him, and it was obvious the racecar would help out in times of need; he wasn't that out of it.

Wheeljack decided that they should only give Jazz and Arcee a quarter of a tank of energon, so as not to overtax their systems. Once they had enough fuel and the siphons were put away, time seemed to move more quickly for Thundercracker. Kass got to work sealing the storage tank up again, mindful of even the diluted low-grade. She closed up his chest plates and sat back, exhausted.

"There… all done," she said, looking over at Wheeljack for confirmation. The scientist was helping Bluestreak get Arcee over to the campfire and he nodded in confirmation.

"Thank you, Kass," the inventor said. "You've been an amazing help today."

Thundercracker tilted his head, getting the woman's attention as well. "Thank you," he said, meaning it. The human had certainly earned his respect as a medic, or at least, a good replacement for one.

Kass nodded, biting her lip. "Don't mention it," she said quietly, taking off her gloves. She gave Jazz a sad look. "I just hope this never happens again, _ever_." Many others murmured in agreement.

The humans had gone back to the campfire to sit. Everyone was looking ragged now. The thought of sleep was terribly enticing, especially now that the danger had passed. Thundercracker sat back against a tall oak next to Jazz, who was still unconscious. At least his fans were running again, the heat no longer short-circuiting them. All of the tense feelings around the camp seemed to have died away.

" _Mais, je suppose que nous devrions construire un autre convertisseur maintenant, oui_?" Barns babbled as Rachel started to get out their dinner. " _Je ne sais pas si nous devrions considérer ce bon choix du moment ou—_ "

Danny reached over and tapped Barns on the head. "Barns, you're speaking French again," she said, tired.

" _Que_? Oh. Sorry." Barns laughed, dropping his head back onto the blankets. His accent was thicker than normal. "Nerves are shot."

"Yeah, mine too," Rachel replied, scowling at a can of food. "I'm gonna kick his ass for this. I nearly had a heart attack."

"Get in line," Thundercracker growled. Rachel snorted, smirking over at him.

Just like that, everything began to wind down. Wheeljack made cursory glances over both Arcee and Jazz, but everything seemed to be working. Thundercracker wanted to relax, but his spark and processor still raced from the fear he had had earlier. It would not be easy to get over this.

Dusk upon them, they had no choice but to start to settle in for the night. Rachel wanted to sleep next to Jazz, but Thundercracker told her to sleep near the fire, as it was cold at night still; he did not need both of them to get sick.

"I can't believe it," Vortex suddenly said, startling the others after a moment of silence passed over them.

"What?" Wheeljack asked, surprised.

The helicopter grinned mercilessly. "For once, when something went horribly wrong—it _wasn't_ Wildrider's fault."

Wildrider's indignant snarl and the resounding laughter from the others almost made Thundercracker feel better. Almost. He turned back to Jazz and took in the semi-peaceful look on the Autobot's faceplates. He loved that face and everything beyond it.

Today had been too close. Far too close. Thundercracker reached down and traced the edges of Jazz's helm, frowning. They were all used to close calls, to risks, to violence and the opportunity for sudden death—it was the small things that seemed to shake them the most. It didn't take a Wrecker to bring down a mech—something as small as a virus, or a simple bad mix of energon—and it was all over.

Thundercracker would not be getting a restful recharge. Not for a while.

Even still, he willed his optics shut and focused on getting rest. Tomorrow was a whole new day.

 **0000**

Waking up with your chest on fire wasn't fun. Waking up with your chest on fire and not being able to move was probably even less fun. Jazz didn't normally encounter either problem, so needless to say, he was rather alarmed when his processors onlined.

In hindsight, he realized why his chest was on fire. Something had been wrong with that energon; that was the thought he had offlined with, anyway. He was still alive, and although he had a large number of error warnings pinging all over his frame, he had an equally large number of repairs being tracked by his system, so he wasn't totally fragged over.

The not-being-able-to-move part was a tad bit more alarming, and hence, the first of his concerns. Optics blazing, Jazz tried to sit up and ended up smacking his face directly into someone else's.

"Slaggit!"

Jazz fell back down in a heap. Thundercracker loomed over him, hunched as though shielding the smaller mech. Jazz gawked up at him. Beyond him, the rest of their group was still asleep, the light of a new morning slowly making its way over the horizon. The two of them slept close, but this was a bit closer than normal.

"What th' frag're you doin'?" Jazz sputtered, inclined to laugh at the sight until his sore frame started popping up additional errors about an uncomfortably twisted elbow taking both his weight and part of a Seeker's.

Thundercracker rumbled lowly and shifted, letting Jazz sit up partially, resting his helm against a fallen tree. "I _was_ attempting to recharge. It's nearly dawn," the jet replied, deadpan. His nonchalance didn't stop him from peering down at Jazz's form, looking for injuries like a medic would.

Jazz smiled faintly. "I take it I took a little tumble?" he asked, glancing down at himself.

"As Rachel said yesterday, you passed out like a fucking pansy," Thundercracker replied, a ghost of a smirk on his faceplate.

"Great. Now I'm gonna be hearin' about this forever," Jazz said, chuckling. He touched his chestplates, feeling how tender they were. "I feel like a drone got loose in my innards. What th' frag happened?"

"You and Arcee drank unrefined energon, or at least, that's what Wheeljack thinks happened," Thundercracker replied. He leaned down closer like he had been laying before, arms and knees propping up most of his weight, but he could rest his helm on Jazz's shoulders. Jazz sighed as the jet's engines rumbled straight through his own frame. "They managed to get the poisoned energon out of your tanks, but it caused some severe corrosion and shorted out your internal temperature control systems. Wheeljack says you'll be fine in a few days."

"Slag. And the converter's broke. Double slag," Jazz said, glancing over at the abandoned device by the campfire. He scowled. They needed that more than any of them cared to admit; they'd have to be very careful of how they progressed in the next few days.

"Barns and Wheeljack will fix it tomorrow," Thundercracker murmured, face buried in Jazz's neck.

Something else bothered Jazz, however. "M'tank's a quarter full still," he said, surprised.

"You owe me," Thundercracker replied bluntly, glancing up at him. His optics were hardened, however, and he clutched Jazz even tighter.

Jazz stared at the jet, surprised. Thundercracker often surprised the others when he was emotional; he hid his feelings well, even in times of stress. Jazz knew he felt things more deeply than he let on, but he'd only seen Thundercracker have an emotional reaction like this twice before. Jazz was taken back by his reaction. He hadn't thought it had been that bad.

"You almost died," Thundercracker continued, his voice sharp. His red eyes pinned Jazz and made his spark shrink, not out of fear, but nervousness.

"I doubt it," Jazz said, looking away. He laughed shakily and gripped Thundercracker's arm gently. "M'tank's not that wasted."

Thundercracker wasn't convinced. "It was so close. You could have died," he growled, leaning in closer again. Jazz shuttered his optics, letting the jet rest his helm on his own.

"We all could die. Part o' life, TC," he murmured back. Just the mere touch of the other mech made him calmer and yet more and more nervous.

Body hunching even more, Thundercracker buried his face into Jazz's neck. "I do not want to lose you. Ever," he said, his voice vibrating through Jazz's frame. "You're all I have left."

Jazz sighed softly. "You have lots of people left. And it's not like I'm lookin' fer a way t' slag myself." He cradled Thundercracker's neck, spark shuddering. "I don't want to lose you either, Thundercracker. Sometimes, though, shit happens."

That was true. None of them had any kind of guarantee that they'd make it to the next day. Every day was a mystery—death was just as plausible as anything else.

Thundercracker pulled away and gave Jazz a scathing look. "You always shrug things off," he accused, grabbing up Jazz's hand.

"Yeah. It's a defense mechanism," Jazz replied, smirking sadly. "Keeps me sane."

The jet scoffed. "I doubt very strongly any of us are sane at this point." _That_ , Jazz could agree with. Thundercracker lifted Jazz's hand and placed it against his chest. Jazz could feel the other mech's spark pulse. Thundercacker stared down at Jazz, grim. "If you go, I don't want to be left behind," he said, his tone of voice giving no room for argument.

They had no spark bond that would bring them down together, because it was too risky to bond in a world like this. But it was also too painful to think about going on alone if one of them fell. Jazz normally would have insisted on being positive and correcting the pessimistic outlook Thundercracker had—

But it didn't seem right today.

"…Me neither," Jazz admitted. He smiled softly and nodded his head back. "But we're alive today. Lookit that sky. Y'can almost see the horizon. That's somethin' good t' think about."

"Mm." Thundercracker rested his helm on Jazz's again, frame trembling just once. " _…I love you,_ " he said quietly in their own language.

Jazz shuttered his optics and relished in his lover's presence. " _Love you, too_ ," he whispered, meaning it.

There would always be another dawn, another dusk. But there weren't any promises for them, the ones living under those skies. Be it drones, accidents, each other—there were always dark what-ifs lurking. Jazz tried to keep the others from remembering the doubts, but it wasn't easy to avoid those thoughts, the ones that sapped their strength and made them weak at heart.

Today, even if pessimism won out, he was content with where he was, in the arms of someone he loved, knowing that even if their darkest worries came true they still had each other.

However, even as they recovered from one traumatic ordeal, Jazz had to acknowledge another growing problem.

"TC?"

"Yeah?"

"…You're really heavy. Can you get off?"

Jazz's laughter about Thundercracker's immediate retreat and subsequent raging about Jazz ruining the moment woke up most of the others, but Jazz was okay with that. As long as they were laughing, they were alive.

That was always better than the alternative.

 

 **End** _**Poison** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Thundercracker discovers he is very un-fond of reptiles.**


	17. Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

_Germany  
2051_

Walking into a city was very similar to walking into a cave, even if they had just been there a year before. Anything could have been hiding behind the crumbling walls, the decaying streets, lurking and waiting for them to walk by. Aggressive humans were easily scared away by the mechs, thankfully, but sometimes it took more than a mean glare or Cybertronian snarl to chase away a bear or wild animal that wanted lunch. Cities were omens of death for a few members of their group and Danny never really liked the empty feeling she got whenever she had to walk under buildings or past old cars.

People _died_ there. They fled the destruction, but not everyone got out in time. It was… disturbing, walking on their graves.

Still, cities had more sights to see than the wilderness did. Danny was always learning new things about humans and their culture. She often wondered where she had come from, or at least her parents. Wheeljack suspected Germany, but Danny didn't know anything more about Germans than she did French or Americans. She wanted to know about people rather than states or a language anyway. There was always something else to learn. She didn't regret one moment of choosing to stay with Wheeljack whenever the choice to leave his side appeared over the years, even if she had missed out on learning from other humans. Wheeljack was a father to her; lessons in humanity couldn't replace that.

"What's that?" she asked, knowing Jazz and Wheeljack would always answer her. She must have asked that question while pointing at something new twenty times already since they entered yet another city to raid for supplies.

"That's a subway station," Jazz replied, smiling brightly. He was in a rather pleasant mood that day, more-so than usual. Probably because he and Thundercracker had slipped off alone the night before, Danny mused.

"What's a subway?"

"It was a network of railways, like, fer trains. Ya saw trains before didn't ya?"

Danny considered. "Yeah." They weren't moving and were falling off the rusting tracks, but she at least knew the shape.

"Humans had cars, trains, planes…all sorts of transportation equipment," Wheeljack added, earfins flashing.

"Why didn't they just walk?" Vortex asked, scowling. "All of these extra vehicles just clog the path."

"Could you imagine walking from this side of the city to the other all the time?" Kass countered. "My feet would fall off!"

Bluestreak, from the other side of the road they were walking down, immediately sent her an alarmed look. "Do you want me to carry you?" he offered, earnest.

Kass sighed. "No, Blue. Figure of speech."

"Oh." Bluestreak frowned, doorwings drooping. "Those never make any sense to me."

Danny laughed. The gunner never quite managed to grasp the concept of jokes, or puns, or figures of speech. Exaggerating around him could be funny, but also led to misunderstandings. Apparently it was a cultural thing.

They talked for a good long time about the different sights of a pre-invasion city. Danny tried to imagine what it all had looked like when people were still around, but it was hard sometimes. She was jealous of Jazz's memories; even Barns only had books or second-hand stories to look back on. All she had were his stories or Jazz's, none of her own.

Getting older made her think about her own status as a human being. She never used to care, but after meeting Rachel, Barns and Kass, she appreciated their own species just a little more. She wanted to be a part of that world, even if she preferred their current group over any refugee camp.

"What I don't get," Rachel suddenly began, quickly earning everyone's attention, "is the extra stuff."

"Extra stuff?" repeated Barns, climbing over a small blockade of cars that had been strewn around the street. The mechs stepped over easily, while Arcee and the humans followed Barns.

Rachel made a weird face and gestured off at the maze of buildings that made up the abandoned city. "The extra stuff. The movies, the game stadiums," she trailed off. "Zoos. I mean, _Jesus_ , you'd think that one or two things would be enough. How did anyone get anything done, with all these distractions?"

"I think it'd be fun to go to a park or a zoo!" Danny exclaimed, excited. She remembered playgrounds. They had visited one a few months back and the humans ran around for a good hour, just being silly. Of course, then Kass fell off a rather rusty swing set, but it had all been good fun for the most part.

"Vhat is zoo?" asked Wildrider, peering around Thundercracker at the humans.

"A zoo was a small man-made enclosure where they stored animals of various sorts, often from other habitats or from around the world, for visitors to look at," Wheeljack replied, probably retrieving the information from any of his 'human file' selections. "Their purpose was to inform the visitors about the animals and give them a chance to look at species they normally would never see in their own country."

"That sounds _awesome_ ," Bluestreak gushed. "I love animals. Squirrels are nice. Did they have squirrels?"

Vortex shuddered. "I hope not," he snapped. Danny hid a grin at his irritation.

"I never went t' one when they were open," Jazz said, grinning. "It does sound pretty neat though. Never was that interested in biology b'fore, but Earth's like th' smorgasbord of animals or somethin'. Would've been nice t' see."

"What's a smorgasbord?" she whispered to Wheeljack. He shrugged; even his internal dictionaries were helpless against Jazzisms.

They ended up talking about the different animals they knew of and what Jazz and Wheeljack were sure a zoo would have had.

"Lions are fucking nuts!" Rachel exclaimed. "I saw a picture of one before and it could totally eat like all four of us. And maybe part of one of them," she added, nodding at one of the mechs.

Jazz laughed, but Thundercracker did not share his lighthearted behavior. "Why would they have one of those inside that zoo place and then let people walk around?" he demanded, hostile. "What did they do, arm the people?"

"No, the animals were in cages," Wheeljack replied, chuckling for some reason. "It wasn't like a safari."

"A _what_?" Vortex demanded. Once they had gotten into the predators, the mechs seemed far more leery about the concept of the zoos. Ever since the bear incident, Danny mused…

Wildrider also looked strangely wary. "Do they have bears?" he asked, utterly serious.

"Uh, maybe?" Barns replied, trying not to smile. "Don't worry about it, because by now, the animals are either dead or went loose after the attacks."

"Dear God, there could be a lion running around here?" Rachel shouted, alarmed. However, when Danny turned around, she saw the blond haired woman was grinning, obviously joking.

As expected, Bluestreak and Vortex seemed to miss the joke and were immediately alarmed by the concept of all of those predators running around.

"Predators would most likely have been killed by the wardens if they couldn't be moved to a safe location," Wheeljack tried to explain. "Even if they hadn't, then the animals probably starved to death before they were able to escape. They weren't always native to this climate, so it is unlikely they would have survived over the past decades."

That did not make any of the suspicious mechs look any happier. Danny understood why they were so nervous; they had enough problems to look for in the wilderness, like drones or natural predators that had somehow survived all this time. Adding exotic pests to their worry-list would be annoying.

"I want to see one of these places now," Jazz interrupted, gleeful. Of course, he and Rachel were in the mood to mess with everyone. Danny couldn't help but join in. It had been a while since they had had a good laugh.

Wildrider glared at him. "No bears," he warned, still unnaturally severe. Danny giggled.

"If there are, you can handle it," Barns assured him, trying and failing to hide his laughter.

Arcee had been quiet for a while. Danny wasn't sure if the femme had picked up on their teasing or not (sometimes she was remarkably obtuse about those things), but suddenly the femme smiled.

"Why don't we go find one, and find out?" she asked, stunning everyone. Kass even tripped over a piece of concrete.

The mechs and the humans stopped and stared at her, optics and eyes wide with identical surprise. Danny grinned.

So, they went to go find a zoo.

 **0000**

With only broken street signs to guide them (and then one German tourist map that Barns found in a shop; Kass had to translate), they took much longer to find the zoo than they should have. They had already gotten supplies, and they normally would have gotten out of the city as soon as possible, but curiosity demanded answers. The mechs all checked their scanners and there weren't any drones nearby so they felt they had a little bit of time to check out the zoo.

Danny certainly wasn't expecting a concrete walled compound with a giant house as the entrance. She thought elephants were big; how did they fit them through the tiny doors? Did they build around them?

Luckily for all of them (specifically the mechs), half of the wall had been blown down, so they could get in that way. Slipping through the less-dangerous doorways, Danny saw paintings on the walls of what she assumed were animals found in the zoo. The colors must have been very bright once, she thought; they were still vibrant even covered in dust.

"Where to first?" Barns asked, looking up at the others once they were all assembled.

"I dunno." Danny pointed to the right. "Let's just walk around." Everyone murmured in agreement and they began to walk around the vacant zoo. Danny took in all the sights, amazed, trying to envision the animals that used to live there.

Jazz sighed wistfully as they saw a building for birds, explored monkey exhibits and then some sort of enclosure for elephants. "Man, when's the last time we went on vacation?" he asked.

"Vacation?" Danny repeated, surprised. She hadn't heard that word before.

"Yeah," Jazz explained. "Like a break. Sight-seeing and stuff."

Wheeljack chuckled. "Jazz, all we _do_ is sight-see."

"We survive. That's a full time job, ain't it?" he countered, grinning.

The humans laughed. "Sure…" Kass said, shaking her head.

There were a lot of empty buildings in the zoo. None of the animals seemed to be around, either because they had died in captivity or had managed to escape. Danny liked to hear about what they used to be, though. There were helpful plaques outside of all of the cages and displays that had a picture of the animal as well as a brief description in German. She enjoyed the pictures and Kass read off the descriptions of the animals and their habitats to them out loud.

They found a huge pit, with an island against the back wall and a moat in between. "This is where they'd kept the large cats," Barns stated. He looked down at it. "Or in this case, tigers."

"They look friendly," Rachel murmured, looking down at the information box in front of the pit. Danny had to admit, the orange colored animal did look kind of cute. In a this-thing-could-kill-me sort of way.

"Look at those teeth! That thing would eat you in two bites," Vortex replied, incredulous.

"Not Rachel, though," Jazz said brightly, "'cause she'd taste bad."

Rachel scowled darkly at the mech and refused to speak to anyone because all of them ended up laughing. Danny just rolled her eyes and walked past the group. There were so many structures still up, though the glass sections of roof were long since destroyed. She wondered if the animals had managed to escape. She hoped they had. It must have been horrible to be left behind, when all their caretakers had been killed or ran away…

They kept wandering, past a large gray building with a huge flying mouse over the door (it looked stable enough, but the mechs couldn't fit into it) and then came to a tall, but dilapidated building. There were images of bugs and worms over the entrance, or at least, she thought they were worms. Why would they care about those? They were common even now, when many life forms had gone extinct.

" _Exotarium. Reptilienhalle und Insektarium_ ," Kass translated. "Insects and Reptiles." She looked vaguely ill as she gazed up at the entry. "Um, I'll pass on this one."

"Same," Barns added, chuckling. Rachel looked vaguely disappointed, however.

"I'll go look around," she said, stepping over the debris and glass near the building's entrance. "I like snakes."

Thundercracker rumbled and crouched down toward her. "The building looks dangerous," he said, frowning. "You shouldn't go in."

Rachel frowned, gazing back at the 'Reptile House.' "Aw… you're right," she said, dejected. "They're probably all dead anyway. No way they could have gotten out of there. Too much glass."

Wildrider suddenly made a sound that reminded Danny very much of a squeak. Whipping around, Danny looked up at the red-and-black mech in surprise. The look he had on his faceplates was comical—with his hands covering most of the bottom part and his optics huge.

"What's with you?" she asked, smiling in amusement.

Wildrider looked like he wanted to laugh, but he was afraid to. And Wildrider rarely was _ever_ afraid to laugh about or at someone. He was looking straight ahead at the group standing in front of the Reptile House's entryway.

"What?" Danny asked again, looking over at the group, confused now.

Wildrider made the sound again before finally cracking. "Boss mech made new friend!" he suddenly blurted, cackling hysterically, the sound loud in the empty park.

That caught everyone's attention and Danny found herself following Wildrider's line of sight—all the way to Thundercracker, who was giving Wildrider a bewildered look. At first, no one could tell what Wildrider was talking about.

And then, Kass saw it.

" _SNAKE_!" she shrieked, jumping back and pointing upward… at Thundercracker.

There was a giant worm—apparently, a _snake_ —peeking out from behind Thundercracker's helm, hanging down from a tree branch that rested partly against the shattered glass roof of the reptile house. It was huge, or at least, longer and rounder than any creature Danny had ever seen. It had scales like a fish, but had tiny black eyes with something waving quickly from its mouth. Danny gasped as Thundercracker whirled around, the wind from his action shaking the obviously decayed branch above him, and the snake fell from its perch—right onto the Cybertronian jet.

Well, Danny was sure _that_ had never happened to any of them before, nor had anyone been expecting it. Everyone screamed in surprise and even Wildrider stopped laughing. Bluestreak yelled and grabbed a screaming Kass away from Thundercracker, who had tried to duck, but his mass couldn't get out of the way. The snake had dropped down like a scarf and landed between his wings. Danny had never seen anything large enough to go the length of both of his wings, but this creature easily could have, it was so long.

"Holy slag, what the _fuck_ is that?" Vortex shouted, quickly stepping away, eyeing the new creature with distrust.

"Get it off!" Thundercracker snapped, trying to reach for it, but couldn't. They just weren't that bendable.

"It's a snake!" Barns exclaimed, pale. He warily stepped around and gawked at the reptile. "Oh… my. That's a really big one."

"It's a python," Wheeljack said, patient even as everyone panicked. He held his hands up to the motionless Thundercracker. "It probably suns itself on the roof of the building and in the top of the tree. They need warmth to survive and it'd be far too cold to survive out in the open."

"I don't care how it survived," Thundercracker seethed, hands twitching with restrained anger as the snake slithered over his wings. The jet flinched as the snake attempted to get closer to his helm. "Get. It. Off."

"It's an endangered species now," Wheeljack complained. "Don't just rip it off."

"THEN _YOU_ GET IT OFF!"

Everyone was beginning to stop panicking and watched the scene unfold with varying degrees of horror or uncertainty. Danny didn't know what to say or do. The mechs couldn't just pull it off and they didn't have the dexterity to unwind it. She froze, horrified.

 _Oh, Primus… are_ we _gonna have to do it?_ She thought, stomach lurching. The humans were the only ones who could possibly grab onto it.

And for some unknown reason, Jazz had started to laugh. Hysterically. Frowning, Danny turned and gave the saboteur a strange look. Jazz was almost falling over and was pointing wildly at Thundercracker and the snake.

"Oh, _snap_ —snakes on a plane!" he cried, his vocalizer static-y from the laughter.

"There's only one snake, Jazz," Danny replied, confused.

Jazz just kept laughing. Everyone else was more focused on how exactly to work this out. No one wanted to go near the snake (which, in its defense, was just curling up on Thundercracker and moving around a little) and Thundercracker was getting more and more agitated.

"Oh, Primus, it's _moving_. Get it off, right _now_ ," Thundercracker hissed, freezing as the snake began to slide across the jet's front like a liquid defying gravity. It seemed to be focusing on his chest now.

"It must be reacting to your spark's energy!" Wheeljack exclaimed, headfins brightening immediately. "The heat from it, it must be attracting it—!"

Thundercracker sent the scientist a murderous glare. "GET. IT. OFF. WHEELJACK."

"I don't know how! Oh, dear." Wheeljack glanced around nervously. "I don't have anything small enough to grab it with."

"I am tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!" Jazz blurted. He immediately cracked up again and couldn't stop laughing, even when Thundercracker growled angrily at him.

"Would you _stop_ it?" Rachel snapped, glaring at him. "This is serious!"

The saboteur, giggling, tried to sober up when the others also complained. "I know, I know, sorry." Jazz sighed, sounding forlorn. "Aah, I miss movies."

Danny had no idea why movies had anything to do with _anything_ right now, but they had more pressing concerns to worry about. No one really knew what to do. It was obvious one of the smaller members (either a human or Arcee) had to help Thundercracker get the creature off, but none of the humans seemed keen on getting too close to the snake. Danny definitely did not want to see if Barns' stories about their impressive killing power were true. Arcee didn't seem that interested in helping either, probably because it was Thundercracker and not an Autobot. Sighing, Danny began to consider helping herself, fears or not.

Finally and thankfully, someone else had mercy on the poor ex-Con.

"Oh, for crying out loud! TC! It can't hurt you, so calm down. Don't move your torso!" Rachel said angrily. She motioned at him. "Kneel down so I can reach your chest. Don't squish the poor thing, it's only trying to get warm."

"It's going to eat spark!" Wildrider shouted, laughing again. Vortex smacked him and Thundercracker growled loudly at the mech.

"Enough!" Arcee snapped. She rolled forward, looking nervously at Rachel as Thundercracker struggled to get down low enough to face her. "Rachel, are you sure you want to be the one to grab it? Let me help. It could hurt you."

"They kill by squeezing people to death," Rachel replied bluntly, "not by biting or by touch. If it starts to wrap itself around me, kill it, but I'll just pull it onto the ground and let it go. Everyone squishable, back off, just in case."

Danny immediately obeyed, following Barns and Kass around behind Bluestreak and Wildrider at the edges of the group to watch at a distance. Arcee ended up helping grab the snake by the front to steady it as Rachel carefully began to unwrap the bottom from Thundercracker's chest. While it hadn't started to "constrict" as Wheeljack called it, it was mildly difficult to pull away from the mech. Jazz ended up having to stun it in the end to get it loose.

"It sure likes heat," Barns said, smiling slightly as they watched. Everyone was quiet, as if watching some sort of special event. "I feel kind of bad taking it away, you know?"

"I don't," Kass muttered, unsympathetic.

After a long few minutes, Arcee and Rachel managed to unravel and drag the python down, Arcee supporting the majority of the apparently heavy creature. Rachel immediately scrambled back once she let her half of the snake down and Arcee deposited the front end. The snake was still stunned but began to move away from the group. Thundercracker quickly got out of the way, snarling about organics.

"I _hate_ this planet!" he roared, stomping away, not stopping for a good distance.

"It loves you though!" Wildrider crowed gleefully. Danny rolled her eyes as he and Jazz high-fived; that mech was only coherent when it suited him.

Most of their group seemed intent on avoiding the snake, but Rachel seemed sad to watch it go. "Bye, snake," she said, waving at the reptile as it slid on the ground and disappeared into the broken down Reptile House. She grinned over at the others, laughing. "Man, it's a good thing I didn't go in there after all. There could be more of those things."

"I officially hate the zoo. Let's get out of here," Kass pleaded. Bluestreak, always sympathetic, agreed to carry her out, since she was afraid of the snake reappearing.

They had to leave anyway. The sun was beginning to set and they had at least thirty minutes to walk and a river to cross before they reached the small forest that had begun to grow in the former suburb just south of city. It was a blessing that the wilderness was beginning to expand into the remains of the city. Then again, Danny mused as they walked with a new quickened pace toward the exit of the zoo, the wilderness had already been there for quite some time.

They were quiet for some time before suddenly, Jazz made a strangled laugh. "…Of course the snake likes _Rachel_ ," he snorted.

"What?" Danny asked, confused, glancing at him curiously.

The mech leered over at Rachel, who was giving him a dark look. "Or rather, Rachel likes the snake," he said, chuckling.

"You have something to say?" the blond demanded hotly, shaking her fist at him. Jazz just laughed.

"Nothin', nothin'."

Rachel scowled. "Snakes are cool, shut up."

"I enjoyed our adventure today. We should do this again," Barns said, grinning, purposely stirring up the debate. He and Jazz were impossible when they were in their teasing modes…

"No zoos," Thundercracker growled darkly. He wasn't talking to Jazz still, even after the saboteur apologized for laughing at him.

Wildrider cackled. "I don't know," he began. "I like Earth animals now. Snake less scary than bear vas."

"I hate snakes!" Kass screamed suddenly, making everyone jump. Jazz and Wheeljack chuckled, even as the British woman clutched at her face, remembering something painful. "Ughhh, they're so gross! We used to have some in the back of the caves! The boys used to think it was funny to bring them into the mess hall. It was horrible!"

"I think they have character," Rachel said, shrugging.

"They don't have legs! It's bloody disgusting!"

Jazz shook his head and held up his hands in a peacekeeping gesture. "A'ight, a'ight, no zoos ever," he said. He paused and then chuckled. "…Good thing we got stuck in Europe and not th' Serengeti, right?"

Vortex scowled. "The what?"

"The place where lions come from," Wheeljack supplied.

Kass mirrored Vortex's expression, clinging to Bluestreak's hand. "I would take a lion over a snake. A lion I can just shoot. Snakes? They're too small to hit from a distance and damned if I'm going to walk up to one."

"Whatever," Thundercracker said as they approached the exit of the zoo. "Let's just get out of this place."

At first, Danny thought that was going to be the end of it. And then, true to his nature, Jazz walked up behind Thundercracker. Danny braced herself, as did the others; this was far from over.

"TC, baby, I wanted t' apologize fer real," Jazz began, his voice a strange singsong tone, trying to keep pace with the larger mech.

Thundercracker growled. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped. Danny wasn't concerned, and she was sure neither was Jazz; the two were close, but bickered a lot like this. It would pass, even if Jazz was ridiculous.

Jazz, of course, made things difficult no matter what. "I wanna make it up t' you," he said, insistent. He wrapped one hand around Thundercracker's shoulder, slowing him considerably, and he plastered himself to the jet's side, grinning his irresistible smile. "Come on."

"What?" Thundercracker said grudgingly, falling for it. Danny winced. _Here it comes…_

With the skill of a mech his size and background, Jazz brought up his other hand. Hanging in it was the toy his accomplice, Barns, had swiped from the dilapidated gift shop as they fled the snake area. Green, tiny, but long—the stuffed snake gleamed up at Thundercracker innocently, even as the jet instinctively ripped away from Jazz to get away from it.

Everyone else burst out laughing and Thundercracker broke out into angry Cybertronian and stomped away from Jazz, who all but collapsed from his own laughter. Danny had to lean against Wildrider to keep from falling over herself.

Only one of the humans refrained from laughing, at least hysterically. "You just lost all booty-call, for like the next six months," Rachel deadpanned, staring up at her friend. "I hope you realize that."

Jazz, laughing, immediately sobered. "…Aw, frag."

Zoos, along with paint decals, thus became taboo.

 

 **End** _**Snakes** _ **. I have no excuse. :3**

 ** _Next_ : The mechanics of a fight are revealed.**


	18. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

They had their share of calm days, where only the breeze stirred up any trouble. Walking along the paths of a strangely empty world, it could be peaceful and rather mundane. Sometimes, they were even bored.

But some days, they were all reminded they were not as alone as they wished to be.

Wildrider and Bluestreak were always the first ones to notice trouble coming, which had surprised Jazz at first. Eventually he realized that although they tended to be the least rational of the group in normal situations, they both had excellent situational and tactical awareness. Jazz had no idea why Wildrider was so observant, possibly it had been one of his functions within his gestalt, but it was something he was glad he could expect of the insane mech. Bluestreak's alertness was a bit more reasonable; his sensory panels combined with his own innate skills as a tracker and sniper seemed to endow him with advanced motion sensors. While both of them could be the least controlled in a normal situation, both thankfully could react in a proper manner when they noticed an attack.

Jazz didn't like to think he had become used to the violence. Sure, he understood wars and battles, but fighting the drones was never like fighting another mech. It was like fighting some supernatural force, a bogeyman. None of them could claim they slept without fear, and all of them dreaded traveling in the open, because they knew the drones would eventually find them. It was never an "if" situation—it was always a matter of "when."

And for that reason, the moment Wildrider tensed up, or Bluestreak cried out in alarm—well, it all seemed to just… go according to plan. A sick, twisted plan.

Chaos could have easily occurred each time they were forced to fight off their enemies. When the children were younger, it had always been a mad-dash to get them out of the way before the fight began. But now, none of them needed protection. Jazz wasn't even that sure that they had needed the protection as children, they fought so furiously now. When the alarm went out, everyone dropped their things and went for their weapons—and after that, it wasn't so much chaos as much as instinct.

The drones always came from above, diving down like a wave of water, moving in packs that would eventually separate as they flung themselves like bullets down at their prey. Jazz would activate his radar as soon as one of the scouts raised the alarm; he'd turn to the location the drones were coming from, if they weren't already on top of them, and he'd summon his courage. And then, he'd fight.

Over the decades Jazz had learned that it was a combination of heat and motion that attracted the drones. They never bothered with human buildings, machinery or vegetation, and for a while he and Thundercracker had thought the drones were programmed only to target their "enemies" – mechs and humans. But with the revival of the Earth's fragile ecosystems it had become clear that it wasn't just humans or mechs they targeted with their mindless destruction; they had seen drone packs decimate local fauna with just as much ferocity as they did humans. They had realized that the drones were designed to destroy any semblance of life; they left the natural resources and were just aiming to wipe the planet clean of everything _extraneous_.

They tried to move through the cover of forests or rocks, in turn, to camouflage their body heat and movement and to be less visible from the sky. It didn't always work, especially not in an open and expansive field like the one they were currently moving through as quickly as possible. The drones had spotted them from miles away.

As much as this attack, like all attacks, was at random, Jazz had learned soon after Kass and Bluestreak had acclimated to their group that while they had no preparations or strategies, somehow, it all worked out, like they had planned things out. Maybe it was just luck. Maybe they just made a really good team. He could believe either.

The most obvious way to fight the drones was to wait for them to come to you; Jazz did not deny it was terrifying to let the metal, screeching monsters fly at his helm, but it was the only way to get a good grip on them without getting torn up by the serrated limbs that'd wrap around his arm and shred it into metal strips. He had found a way to duck their rather predictable lunge and get underneath them. Then he'd latch his claws into the base of their body and tear out their innards. It was their only soft spot.

Had he been fighting alone, that would have been his death, however. Once one drone went down, the rest reacted like angry bees. They swarmed to the killer of the last drone and to have five attacking simultaneously would easily be the end of any mech, even one as large as Wheeljack or Thundercracker.

Luckily, he wasn't alone. Wildrider, Arcee, Barns and Danny were always right up there, either watching his back (Danny was irreplaceable when it came to her well-aimed concussion blasts knocking away incoming counter-attacks) or distracting the horde with their own attacks (Wildrider and Arcee were easily the most aggressive when it came to attacking the drones.) Barns, generally the most genial of the humans, coldly shot down any of their enemies who got into range; he was by far the best shot with any weapon. Thundercracker, despite his flying abilities, stayed on the ground and swatted drones to the ground like flies. If any latched onto his massive form, one of the others could easily shoot it away. They worked like a surprisingly well-oiled machine.

But there were also sudden diving attacks from the sky to worry about. These attacks would catch one of them off guard at some point in nearly every fight. The drones were actually nothing but bombs, themselves, or missiles rather, and they were perfectly designed to come crashing out of the sky and flay a mech or a human to shreds. Jazz cursed fliers in general whenever he had to dodge or recover from a surprise aerial bomb, but felt a little sheepish when Thundercracker and Vortex scowled at him. After all, their team also relied on flight as a tactical advantage.

Neither Jazz nor Thundercracker were particularly fond of Rachel wearing the flight suit all the time. She claimed it was easy to wear and lightweight, but Jazz was always nervous about her flying around, especially during an attack. So she often wasn't wearing it when a fight broke out, and would end up just fighting from the ground.

However, during the times she was wearing the suit, Jazz couldn't help but admit it was useful.

It wasn't practical for Thundercracker to transform to fight; it used too much energon, and his alt mode forced him to move quickly and stay high in the sky, which separated him from the rest of the team. Since the drones would swoop down close enough for him to reach while just standing upright, there was no reason to risk it. He was more effective on the ground. Vortex, less bulky and with an easier transformation sequence and a better alt mode for the kind of close air support that they needed, would sometimes take to the air to attack from above, or to lure a particularly large group back for the team to attack from underneath. And on the days Rachel was wearing her suit, she'd join in.

It must have been like trying to dodge raindrops, Jazz mused; he was always impressed (despite his mild horror) when Rachel escaped a swarm of drones alive. She never dove into a group (because even _she_ knew that would be suicide), but she played the bait, diving around a smaller group, and tricked the drones into following her right into the path of Thundercracker's cannons, or Vortex's blades. The drones weren't sentient, but they were programmed with far more intelligence than Jazz was comfortable acknowledging. They tried to avoid going near the larger, more violent mechs, but they couldn't resist targeting one of their favorite victims, a human. Rachel's feinting quickly led them to their demise at the hands of the Cybertronians below.

Rachel would always be a more "hands-on" fighter, preferring to actually hit someone with her fists, but all of the humans knew their limits. Always cautious, Rachel knew that she did best from a distance or as bait. Wheeljack's concussion blaster (he had made all four of them one, thankfully) was her main defense against them if they got too close, and if they did get too close, she was gleeful that the weapon also damaged them, sending them spiraling to the ground where Wildrider often waited to "clean up."

"COME AND GET ME, BITCHES!" Rachel screeched over the noise of the other fighting. Jazz felt his spark clench terribly as he looked up to see the blond-haired woman zip downwards, two drones close on her tail. Aiming to hit them was always nerve-wracking, as one slip could kill Rachel as well.

But practice made perfect.

Thundercracker grabbed the one closest to Rachel, crushing it like the creature was made of tin. Jazz raised his cannons to take out the last drone, but a streak of blue light beat him to it. Rapid fire plasma bolts blazed through the air and the drone was almost torn in half before it finally hit the ground. Rachel whipped by, to circle back around and try again, and Jazz waved absently behind him, where he knew the hail of bullets had originated from.

Then, without warning, someone shouted.

"HEADS UP!"

Jazz didn't have to hear it twice; he hit the ground, dodging to the right back toward the trees. From behind them, he knew Bluestreak was sniping drones out, using the cover of the forest to stop them from finding him easily. But Jazz also knew that Bluestreak wasn't the one who shouted.

Kass screamed not in fear or pain, but anger, as she hurled grenade after grenade at the drones. Wheeljack had made an exterior device to attach to regular grenades specifically for her, which latched onto her target. The clawed-device pierced their metal exterior—and then exploded the grenade. It wasn't a large explosion, or else it could have hit a friendly, but it was enough to destroy the drone.

She was the quiet one and no one ever suspected she'd be willing to fight. But, oh, how they had been wrong about that. The first time they stepped into a fight with the drones, Kass, even though she had no weapons yet, began to attack them with anything she could grab, mostly rocks. Wildrider barely managed to yank the drone back before it hurled itself at her, but Kass wasn't afraid at all. She just kept throwing.

It didn't take much to figure her anger out, though. She hated arguments and violence between each member of their group. She balked at extra attention and wouldn't accept compliments easily either, mostly due to her own meek personality.

But as soon as the drones appeared, all of that pacifism went out the window. She had lost everything to them. It hadn't even been the Decepticons—it was just the drones she had to blame, and so, she laid all of her anger out on them. The sight of them just made her snap, apparently; more than once, one of the humans had to drag her away from a fight before she gave up all sense of self-preservation and jumped on a drone with only her bare hands to attack with.

"Move back!" Wheeljack yelled, Wildrider's screeches combined with various shouts from the others forcing him to shout to make himself heard. "Danny, Arcee, to your left!"

Jazz ducked past Thundercracker to shoot down another set of drones that almost took Arcee and Danny by surprise. Wheeljack didn't have a lot of weapons, but he was calmer than most of them. He did his best to pick up the defense and keep an eye on the number of drones in the area, his radar homing in on any lurkers. Arcee immediately followed Jazz's actions and began to fire at the drone in question. The second drone came after her, but Wildrider easily brought it down with a barrage of bullets.

Blindly, Jazz thought how goddamn lucky they were they all had the firepower they had, and the knowledge. It had taken him years to figure out how to kill the drones. Ironhide had nearly gone insane trying to discover their weak points when they first appeared. Jazz had heard that 'Hide had died during a particularly vicious strike; he knew now that even if the weapons specialist had identified a way to kill the drones, he would probably not have survived long anyhow. It was only because of their group's size that they weren't overrun by the fast moving and sparkless monsters.

The time when Goddard had died… Jazz still had terrible visions of that day. He had never seen such a large group of drones. Perhaps it had been a fluke, but it bothered him every time they had to fight another group—what if this was another super-group? What if there were thirty, or forty? Would they be as lucky—or, he mused unlucky—as last time, and escape alive? Or would the same thing happen again - would they have to leave a man behind?

He did not want to think about it.

Their team moved like clockwork, all of them. Every attack was a surprise—but it all became second nature after a while. Maybe, just maybe, if the human military had managed to get the intel they had now, they wouldn't have fallen to the drones. It was too late for them, though, but Jazz realized his group thankfully could use the information to their advantage.

Even if they knew how to kill them, there were so many things they didn't know about their enemies. There were always plenty of bodies, and the scientists of their group always attempted to analyze any well-preserved remains after things calmed down. But they never learned anything. At least, nothing comfortingly logical.

"They are not based on our technology," Wheeljack stated one day, when Goddard was still with them. He looked strangely… scared. "They…"

"They're what, 'Jack?" Jazz asked.

Wheeljack stared down at the drone corpse, optics full of confused fear. "They are older," he said. "Their technology predates our own. I cannot decipher it."

Whatever _that_ meant. Jazz could not fathom what it meant for them, or where the drones came from. Were they pre-Golden Age weapons that Galvatron had discovered? Or were they from… somewhere or someone else? There were no answers to be learned from a drone, dead or alive, so all they had were guesses. And fears.

So, he didn't think about their origins too much. All he cared to know was that they were fierce, many, and the enemy. Sometimes, he almost wanted to thank the little bastards—without their universal homicidal tendencies, he wouldn't think it was possible to take a hit for a Decepticon—or for a mech like Thundercracker or Vortex to do the same for him. It would have been insane to contemplate how Arcee would completely drop her prejudices and grab Wildrider back from a surprise attack, or for Wheeljack to tediously care for any of the injured 'Cons. It would have been a strange dream to imagine the aftermath, where they would all smile at each other, regardless of optic color or background, and relish together the realization that _yes, we are still alive._

Jazz wanted a lot of things back—his home, his old teammates, Prowl—but he wouldn't give up the camaraderie they all shared together when faced with the drones. Not for anything in the world.

Even still… Jazz found himself standing in the clearing for a long tense moment before he dared to say the fight was done. The others, the out of breath humans and the hissing and cannon-whirling mechs, would wait as well, looking everywhere around them for a remaining enemy. And then, everything seemed to unfold, like they had all been holding a collective breath and they would breathe again.

Jazz was never comforted by how easily they slipped in and out of this war-like mentality. As drone carcasses were thrown to the side and radar checks made sure the enemy was, indeed, dead, the fiery sensation of fear and bloodlust died out like a candle's flame. The humans, scratched, dirty and bruised, smiled and seemed to do their best to patch up with jokes or calm seriousness. The mechs busied themselves with their own health checks. As soon as they were all cleared by Wheeljack or Kass, it was as if nothing had happened.

It didn't seem right. It didn't seem natural—

Motioning westward, Danny smiled brightly, covered in grime, some of it her own sweat and blood. "Let's get going."

But it was life.

 ****

 _**Teamwork** _ **end.**

 _**Next** _ **: In a flashback to before** _**Introductions Part 5** _ **, Goddard teaches the kids how to make food from scratch. As you may have learned to expect from this story, disaster ensues!**


	19. Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 

Danny never once felt jealous of the mechs' dependency on energon. It was hot, looked like acid, and it was entirely reliant on Wheeljack's invention. It was also, in a diluted form, their blood; to realize that at the same time as watching them drink it was kinda disgusting. And she'd always thought it must get mundane to drink the same thing day after day, too.

But there were days where she was almost— _just a little_ —jealous of the fact they had only _one_ food type. It might have been boring… but it was a little bit less hazardous than say, human food.

She loved the flavors of food. When she'd been a baby Wheeljack had confined her to a nutrient-rich diet (something yellow and sort of squishy; she never really questioned it until she had encountered other humans who didn't eat the same thing she did) because she had been so undernourished, but now after meeting Rachel and her less-strict guardians, Danny had experienced a wider range of food.

There was canned food, but certainly not as much as there had been at the start of the war. There were expiration dates on every can, Rachel told her the first time they salvaged some cans from a grocery in a city. All of the cans were past their expiration dates, but Rachel explained that the food inside a lot of them was still good. Rachel found a bunch of cans that had spoiled and showed Danny what to look for. Canned meats like Spam (disgusting but a little more interesting than her supplementary food) had survived, and most stores had a few unspoiled cans of vegetables but not much else.

They had to get vitamins, 'Jack told them repeatedly. Danny didn't really know what those were, but apparently they were important for humans to have to be healthy. Thankfully, Rachel had learned a lot from living in camps and had several "cheats." Some vitamins and medicine were still good, she claimed, even after all this time.

"There's an expiration date, though," Wheeljack complained.

"The medicines just aren't as strong, 'Jack, but they still work," Rachel replied, frowning. "All the doctors at the camps said it was still okay. And they said canned goods could last a hundred years."

Wheeljack was insistent about avoiding expired food and medicines, claiming that if the girls relied on only canned goods, they wouldn't have good nutrition, and he eventually won Jazz and Thundercracker over (much to Rachel's dismay). Wheeljack instead directed them to… hunting and gathering. Danny was not amused by the idea of killing something and then eating it. It seemed so… so… _gross_. Rachel was less averse to the idea of killing but considered it wasteful to kill an animal and hurt the Earth's ecosystem while canned goods were still available… but both girls knew an empty stomach was worse than a dead bird or rabbit.

The water was generally contaminated where they went, but Wheeljack had a water purifier for them to use to get drinking water. But the contamination of the water meant that fish were generally off limits, so they had to rely on hunting land animals. Jazz, for a while, was the one who had to shoot something for them to eat, but after they got their hands on a regular gun, Rachel took over that duty.

It was only when Bluestreak and Kass had first joined the group that the major problems with hunting re-appeared. After Rachel had killed a rabbit that had strayed too close to camp, Bluestreak made a terrible sound that caught all the humans' attentions. He stared down at them and the rabbit, horrified.

"Why… why would you do _that_?" he whimpered, looking stricken.

Even Rachel looked guilty. "Survival, Blue. I know, it sucks." She bit her lip and stared down at the rabbit. "At least it didn't feel anything. And it'll be helping us in the long run by us eating it."

"It's the cycle of life," added Barns.

Jazz took the time to sing, " _It's the circle of lifeeeee, aaaand it moves us alllll_ ," from across the field before Thundercracker punched him in the helm to get him to shut up. Rachel only rolled her eyes and Danny resigned herself to not knowing what he was talking about. As usual.

Even if the process was gross… Danny had to admit, meat wasn't too bad. And fresh rabbit tasted far, far better than Spam.

Once the canned goods were generally off-limits, fruits and vegetables became a rarity and were only found in the wild. Vegetables like turnips, onions and asparagus grew wild, even if Danny didn't really like them. Berries and apples also could survive the colder climates, however, and they all provided nutrients. Wheeljack lamented not being able to stay still long enough to grow something edible, but there was no option for them to do that.

It was only when Goddard and Barns entered the scene, Danny realized, that their food options widened considerably. Instead of just putting the still-edible canned goods and food found from their foraging and hunting into pans and making sure the bacteria were killed, Goddard seemed look for specific combinations of food items (he called them ingredients) to put together to make food that tasted good. He called it baking and cooking.

"What are you doing to that plant?" Danny had gotten up enough courage to ask one morning as he made breakfast. The two new humans had just moved into their group and Danny was still a little shy, especially around Goddard, who seemed so rough compared to Wheeljack or Jazz.

Goddard smiled up at her, holding up a plant that was round and seemed to have lots of seeds on the outside. He had taken a bunch from the remnants of a 'farm gone wild' as he called it. "I'm making corncakes," he said brightly. "You're more than welcome to try one, if ya want."

Danny had no idea what corn-cake was, but decide to give it a try. It was gritty… but sweet. What was more interesting was the fact he could create a new food from an old one; he mashed up the dried 'kernels' as he called them and made a powder. From there, he mixed it with water and then cooked it over a fire on a skillet. The light-brown disc that resulted was apparently a corn-cake.

"How'd you do that? !" she exclaimed, looking at the finished product with amazement.

"Magic," Goddard teased. Barns shook his head and told Danny about how it was really only mixing two products together to make a new one. She had never thought it was possible to do that with food. Maybe soldiers really did know more about survival than civilians, she mused.

She was much more intent on seeing how they could make new food from old ones after that. There weren't many things they could bake or cook, Goddard admitted, but if they had the chance, he'd try new things for them.

Of course, as per usual with their rag-tag group of friends, Danny mused, that was a mistake.

 **0000**

 _Europe  
Spring, 2047_

"All right, you brats, com'ere."

Danny knew something was up when Goddard stepped over Barns and headed straight for her and Rachel, who were sitting by Thundercracker. He had a strange look on his face, like he was trying not to smile and instead scowled.

"Whaaat, I didn't do anything," Rachel immediately complained from behind Thundercracker's legs, eyeing Goddard with a suspicious frown. She had a good reason to be suspicious of the man. They bickered like siblings, Jazz had once commented; both weren't above swinging at each other, just joking around.

"I know you didn't," Goddard replied, no-nonsense ringing in his voice. He motioned at the humans, Barns as well, and pointed at the fire. "Get over here anyway."

Danny frowned, curiosity winning out. "Fine…" She stood and headed over to the camp fire. "What's going on?"

None of the mechs seemed interested in getting involved. Vortex, rather shy with the humans, preferred to sit back away from the fire. Thundercracker had looked at the group moving off, but went back to napping, disinterested. Jazz and Wheeljack were chatting quietly about some Autobot thing and Wildrider was recharging, having taken the late shift the night before. Day light was fading slowly and Danny wondered exactly what sort of excitement Goddard had planned so late in the day.

"We're makin' peanut butter," Goddard exclaimed, grinning enthusiastically. He held up canvas sack that rattled. "I was savin' this for a special day. Today's that day!"

"…What's peanut butter?" Danny asked, confused.

Barns laughed. "Goddard, where did you find peanuts?" he asked, chuckling. He and Rachel settled down by the fire.

"Found a plant the other day. Full of nuts, so I thought, hell, why not make some good ol' peanut butter to show these rascals what they're missing growing up?" Goddard replied, grinning madly still. Danny sat down next to him and stared quizzically at the bag.

"What's a peanut butter?" she asked again, insistent.

"It's a paste made from peanuts," Barns replied helpfully. "A nut protects a seed. Peanuts come from the ground, below the plant."

"Oh."

Goddard had swiped what turned out to be a hand-mixer from the last city and set to work grinding up the peanut butter. It took a long time and he had to add water to the mix to make it smoother. Danny watched, fascinated as the seeds (having been cracked up by herself, Rachel and Barns) turned into mush, and eventually, a smooth not-quite-liquid substance they called peanut butter.

"This used to be quite the commodity back at the camps at the start of the war," Goddard explained, as he mixed, smiling brightly. Every time he did that, the wrinkles and scars on his face seemed to fade. "Now it just doesn't exist, except from scratch."

"Thanks, Goddard," Barns said, smiling back. Danny beamed; she was grateful too, even if she didn't know what it was yet. Goddard always tried to give them a piece of their histories, even if it was an imitation or just a story. She was always grateful for him trying, regardless.

After nearly an hour, as the sun began to set, they had peanut butter. Danny was hesitant to try the brown substance, that didn't look any better than mud did really. Barns and Goddard willingly tried it first and Barns said it was great. Rachel dared to go next and took the spoon from Goddard. She took a little and lifted the spoon to her mouth.

It didn't take long for a reaction. "Eeeeeew!" Rachel immediately complained. She swallowed the peanut butter and immediately handed the spoon back to Goddard. "Gross, gross, _gross_."

"Ah, you have no taste!" Goddard exclaimed.

"It's so dry!" she said, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh. Thanks, but no thanks."

They bickered continuously, as usual, so Danny stole the spoon from the bowl and stared down at the peanut butter, contemplating. Rachel was always picky with food and Danny was still getting used to the idea of different tastes; she had no idea what to expect. So, with a little wariness, she took a taste of the peanut butter.

It _was_ dry. She swallowed and frowned, thoughtfully. It was too thick to eat alone, she realized. Maybe if they had corn-cakes, it would work okay. She didn't think it would go too good with turnips or rabbit. She returned the spoon to the bowl, still thinking of their cooking options, and—

And then… something happened.

Danny froze immediately when she first felt a tingle appear in her mouth. She had never, ever felt a tingle in her mouth before, except when she had coffee before, but that was more of a burning-tingle and then she was 'hyper' for the rest of the day. It wasn't quite like that, though. This was like a tingling inside of her tongue and lip, and now, back toward her throat.

"…Guys?" she began, trying to keep calm. Perhaps it was just a side effect of the peanut butter. Maybe this is why Rachel didn't like it.

"What, Danny?" Goddard asked, looking back at her, pausing even as Rachel kept kicking his leg childishly.

"Is peanut butter… supposed to make your body feel weird?" she asked, trying to think of the right way to say it. Also, it was kind of difficult to talk with her tongue feeling so numb. "Is it like coffee?"

Barns and Rachel both looked confused. "Um… no?" Goddard said, frowning. "Why'd you think that, kid?"

"Ummmm, my throat feels all tingly," Danny replied. She paused. "Well, more like my tongue."

Goddard physically froze and gave her a look that reminded her very much of Wheeljack's expression the one time she found out she was allergic to flowers. "…What do you mean, _tingly_?" he demanded slowly, eyes huge.

"Like when your leg falls, ah, asleep," she replied. Danny paused and rolled her tongue, the tingling not residing. "Not like coffee, that's another kind of tingle."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, _back_ up." Goddard crouched in front of her and stared directly into her face, acting very strange. "Can you breathe okay?"

 _What kind of question was that?_ Danny opened her mouth to ask him why, but realized that yes, there was a minute change in her throat. She couldn't _not_ breathe, but it was… tingly. "Not… particularly." She swallowed again, trying to clear her throat. The feeling wouldn't go away. "I think it's… getting a bit worse."

 _That,_ apparently, was the wrong answer for Goddard. "Oh, shit. Oh, _shitttt_. Hold on, just stay there, kid," he said, jumping to his feet. He waved over at the mechs. "HEY! 'Jack! Come're!"

"What's wrong, Goddard?" Wheeljack replied, looking over at the humans. He apparently hadn't been keeping a track of their conversation. Danny was surprised; he was generally warier than that.

"You don't have any human medical supplies on you, do ya?" Goddard asked, never one to mince words.

"Not many, why?" Wheeljack asked and then he seemed to realize what Goddard had said. He stood up, alarmed. "What's wrong? Is someone ill?"

"Double shit." Goddard turned around and crouched in front of Danny again, wearing (as Rachel, Danny and Barns had dubbed it) his 'concerned adult face.' "Danny, you keep letting me know if anything changes, okay?"

That certainly got Wheeljack's attention. "Danielle? What's wrong? !" he demanded, rushing over to the camp fire.

Danny looked up at her guardian nervously. "The peanut butter is making my throat feel tingly." It wasn't getting any worse now, thankfully, but it was annoyingly obvious still.

At some point in all this, Wildrider had woken up. "Squishy?" he asked, rolling closer in his vehicle mode. "Vhy is face so red?" Danny reached up and touched her face, surprised. _Was it red?_

"Goddard, what's happening?" Barns asked, alarmed as well.

"She's having a mild reaction to the peanut butter," Goddard hastily explained, rummaging through his bag. "Some people can be allergic to it. She hasn't keeled over yet, so I don't think it's dangerous."

" _YET_? !" shouted Jazz from across the clearing. He stood, sounding concerned. "What th' frag's goin' on?"

Goddard exhaled sharply. "She's never had peanuts before, so she probably never realized she was allergic," he explained hastily, getting annoyed at the questions.

"What if it gets worse? How do you stop it?" Vortex asked, more curious than alarmed. If she wasn't so uneasy herself, she'd have rolled her eyes at his behavior.

Wheeljack was not calming down. "I don't have any antihistamines!" he cried, apparently having looked up "peanut allergy" in his database. "No epinephrine! If it does get worse, we won't be able to do anything!"

"'Jack, calm down, if she ain't dead now, she ain't dying later," Goddard exclaimed, shaking his head. He glanced at Danny, frowning. "Dan, just keep us posted if it changes."

"Even if she let us know it got worse, we couldn't do anything anyway!" Wheeljack exclaimed, borderline panicking. "This is horrible!"

"'Jack, come on, I'm okay," Danny replied, waving her hand at the mech. "It just… feels weird." It was like she needed to cough and clear her throat, but her throat was so stuffed, it was impossible to get the required air to do so. She was lucky she could still talk.

It was mostly a waiting game after that. Danny fidgeted as most of the groups' attention focused on her for a good hour and a half. Wheeljack insisted on her giving updates of the condition every ten minutes. After a long time, Danny (as well as the others) was pleased to note the feeling was subsiding.

"I think it's going away," she said, touching her tongue experimentally. It tingled, but the feeling in her throat was easing up.

"Thank Primus!" Wheeljack exclaimed, utterly relieved.

Goddard sent Wheeljack a dark look. "Christ, I'd hate to be around here when you sprain an ankle." He turned back to Danny, looking more sympathetic. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah…" Danny bit her lip nervously. "Sorry, Goddard." She had messed up a treat he had worked hard to give them all.

To her surprise, Goddard laughed. "What're you sorry for? I'm the one who almost got you killed, kid," he said, chuckling. He looked down at the forsaken bowl of peanut butter. "Ah, well, more for me and Barns, I guess."

Danny smiled; that was what she loved best about Goddard. He could flip out about some things, but he knew when to stop… most times. She was glad they could just get over this rationally.

Of course, the peace only lasted until the next time Goddard made breakfast. It was corncakes. Danny loved corncakes. She readily accepted a patty from Goddard on a metal plate.

However, walking in front of Wheeljack, she realized her guardian had been waiting for her. He glowered down at her (more like the food and plate) and raised his hand. The metal plate went soaring into the air, clattering against the magnetic center of his hand while the corncake tumbled to the ground, rejected.

Apparently, Wheeljack had revoked Goddard's giving-Danny-food privileges.

Danny stared down at the wasted food, heartbroken. "My corncake," she said, mournfully. Rachel stifled a giggle.

" _WHEELJACK_!" Goddard yelled from the fireside, having seen the action. "KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!"

"You never asked if she was allergic to corn!" Wheeljack snapped back, surprisingly angry.

"SHE'S EATEN THIS BEFORE, YOU CRAZY-ASS ROBOT!"

Danny sighed as the two kept bickering, Jazz (laughing, of course) having to eventually separate them. She personally had no hard feelings towards experimenting with foods and definitely no hard feelings towards Goddard for trying. She just hoped that Wheeljack and Goddard would be able to get over this squabble and move on from it soon.

She missed corncakes already.

"You're not getting mine," Rachel replied, holding her plate to her chest possessively when Danny gave her a simpering look.

Danny sighed and resigned herself to cold rabbit for breakfast. _Gross_.

 

 **End** _**Food** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Jazz invokes an old tradition and Barns has a terrible idea.**


	20. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _October, 2051 AD  
France_

It was a dark and foggy night. They had ended up camping near a bog, which was disgusting and wet. The humans thankfully had their tarps to sit on and Jazz agreed it was necessary to build a stronger fire than normal, just to keep them warm. The humans hated to use the mechs to sleep in unless they had to, both because the mechs generally remained untransformed during the night and out of respect for the mechs' personal space. During colder months, there was frequently a need during snowstorms for the humans to sleep inside one of the cars (Thundercracker had no intention of letting one of them sleep inside of _him_ ; it would have been ridiculous), but it wasn't that cold yet.

Thundercracker settled in for an easy evening's rest, despite the chill and fog. The humans were busy getting their food ready for dinner and the mechs had taken their energon rations already. He was a little nervous about letting the fire go so large, but they would just have to be more vigilant that night; sickness was not something to underestimate.

Conversation went on as it usually did, but Thundercracker, lounging against a strong oak tree, immediately picked up on a disturbance. Or rather, lack of disturbance. His optics immediately searched out Jazz. The saboteur was not sitting around the fire with the humans , nor was he by Thundercracker – although he rarely was anywhere but those places this time of night. And he wasn't joining in on the conversation either.

That… did not bode well.

Jazz was, instead, quietly standing by the tree line, observing their group with a guarded expression. Thundercracker stared back at him, immediately suspicious. Jazz was never _not_ involved with a conversation—and he did not hang back like that…

Unless he was plotting something.

Thundercracker inwardly dreaded whatever his mate had planned. Jazz knew his limits—he knew them too well. He could easily skirt along anyone's patience, pushing them to their breaking point, but never go beyond that. It was aggravating and dangerous. Even though they had all been traveling together for several years, Thundercracker didn't know if Vortex really could hold himself back from attacking the other mech, or if Wildrider would ever go too far with mimicking Jazz (whom he idolized), as _he_ didn't always know the limits of the other group members as well as Jazz did.

For all of those reasons, the moment Jazz stepped forward, Thundercracker cringed.

"Hey," the silver mech began casually.

 _OhdearPrimusnowwhat?_ "What?" Thundercracker asked, glancing reluctantly over at the other mech.

Jazz stopped short right between Wheeljack and Wildrider. "D'you guys know what day it is?" he asked, deceivingly calm.

Danny blinked. "Uhhh. No."

"My chronometer never really calibrated right," Bluestreak replied, frowning. "Why?"

"It's late October, by my count," Barns added, looking thoughtful. "I could get out my calendar, if you want." It was a ratty old thing his grandparents had given him, apparently. The year was wrong, but they could make the adjustments when needed to figure out the exact date.

"Nah, I was just wonderin' if y'all knew," Jazz replied, the grin that had threatened to appear finally worming its way onto his faceplates. He practically radiated mischief. "I already do."

While Thundercracker was sure the more stoic mechs and Arcee could have held out from asking why Jazz had brought it up, the curious-as-ever humans and less mature mechs fell for it. "Vhat is today?" Wildrider asked, tilting his head.

"Today is October 31st, my dear friends," Jazz said, crouching slowly, leering through the fire. "D'you know what October 31st is?"

Rachel arched an eyebrow at him. "The 31st of October?" she deadpanned.

"Last day of the month?" Danny offered cheekily.

Jazz sat with a loud clang, shaking his head. "Ha, funny." He grinned again. "Seriously, any idea?"

Barns looked just as confused as the others, until he suddenly jerked upright. "…Oh!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Haha! I didn't even realize!"

"What is it?" Wheeljack asked, surprised.

"It's Halloween!" Barns said, smiling at everyone as they looked at him for an explanation. "I completely forgot about that, Jazz."

"Same here," Kass said, apparently knowing what 'Halloween' was. It didn't sound pleasant.

"Vhat is Halloween?" Wildrider asked, still curious. "Is holiday?"

Jazz nodded, enthusiastic. "Yup! Th' best one, I figure, outside of Christmas."

Wildrider beamed and Thundercracker groaned; they did NOT need another Christmas incident. Jazz drew his legs up, grinning impishly.

Human culture was always something the others liked to learn about—well, the others outside of himself, Vortex and occasionally Arcee. The others just soaked up as much of it as they could get. "What do you do on Halloween? Exchange more gifts?" Danny asked, immensely interested. The humans knew almost as little about their cultures as the Transformers did.

"Nope," Jazz replied, shaking his helm. "Ya exchange somethin' else." He paused and then his grin widened just marginally. "Stories."

"Stories?" repeated Arcee, confused.

"Halloween is a festival started hundreds of years ago, up in the Celtic areas," Barns explained cheerfully. "To scare away evil creatures, people dressed up in frightening costumes and paraded around their villages."

"How the frag would that scare anything?" Vortex demanded, frowning deeply. He did not seem impressed with the notion of Halloween.

Wheeljack frowned as well. "What kind of evil creature are we talking about?" He didn't appreciate folk tales too much; he claimed they made the humans nervous when they shouldn't have been.

"A ghost, goblin, demon… whatever," Barns said, waving his hand. He looked over at Vortex, continuing to explain. "It was just ritual. But it eventually became a holiday celebrated by modern culture as a holiday of frights. From what grandmère told me, you still dressed up, but it was focused on scaring yourself or friends for fun, not chasing evil away."

Arcee stared at Barns, blank. "What?" she asked at length, utterly confused. She wasn't alone in that sentiment, at least with the other mechs.

"Silly, yes, but it seemed like good fun," Barns replied, laughing. He looked over at Jazz, who looked like he was waiting for a specific cue. "I take it you wish to exchange scary stories in remembrance?"

The silver mech nodded. "I thought it might be a good way fer you humans t' reconnect t' a part of yer culture," he said, feigning innocent goodwill. "As far as I know, th' French, British and Americans practiced it."

"What about me?" Danny asked, curious. They had no clue about her origins.

Jazz grinned teasingly at her. "I guess th' Miscellaneous Humans did, too."

Danny scowled, even as the others chuckled at her expense. "Not funny!" she exclaimed.

"So… what?" Rachel asked at length. "We just tell stories?"

"Scary stories," Jazz countered, excited now. "Who's in?"

"I'll give it a go," Barns replied, grinning.

Rachel and Kass both looked dismayed at the idea of telling a story; both were creative, but lacked the public speaking skills. Danny and Bluestreak cheerfully agreed to join in as well.

"I vill vin," Wildrider stated smugly, crossing his arms against his chestplates.

"You're an idiot," Vortex snapped. He was grudgingly involved as well, though Thundercracker doubted he'd try very hard.

Jazz looked over at Thundercracker, teasing, knowing the answer even before he asked, "What about you, TC?"

Thundercracker glared back at him. "No. I don't have any stories." That wasn't necessarily true—and Jazz knew it—but he didn't want to drag this train wreck of an idea out any further than it had to go. This would not end peacefully.

"I must sit this out as well. I'm afraid I don't have many stories to share," Arcee said, tilting her head at the humans.

"Me neither," Wheeljack added, shaking his head. He sounded bemused. "We can be judges, perhaps."

Thundercracker shrugged and the others began to chatter about how to get started with this "ghost story" challenge, as Barns described.

"I don't have any ghost stories!" Bluestreak said, upset. "We don't have ghosts. Or at least, not scary ones."

"Any horror story will do," Kass assured him. She sighed, resigned to the event. "Kevin always joined in on these types of things. Any kind of scary story you may have works."

Bluestreak seemed pacified by this. "Oh… okay."

Barns offered to go first, to show them how it was done. Jazz, excited as ever, settled in next to the humans and every mech except for Vortex and Thundercracker moved in to the quasi-circular group. Thundercracker could see and hear just fine where he was.

"Alright… scary story, huh?" Barns murmured, settling in closer to the fire, rubbing his hands together, looking ponderous. The man definitely would have a decent story to tell, out of any of them. "Let me think."

"I hope it's not too scary," Kass murmured, frowning. She settled in beside Bluestreak, looking nervous already. "If I have more nightmares than usual, I blame all of you loons."

Barns chuckled. "Relax, it's not a ghost story." He paused and then smiled, almost sly. "But… it's a true story."

Thundercracker had to hand it to him—Barnaby was a gifted story teller. And a liar. And a prankster. He was like a human version of Jazz, only with a little bit more restraint. If anyone was going to tell a good scary story, Barns would be the one.

"True story?" repeated Danny, surprised.

"Yes. It's an old story, more like an urban legend, but my grandpère told me about it when I was younger," Barns said, a silence falling over the others as he began to speak. He quickly ensnared their attentions. "It's the story about a countess who lived hundreds of years ago. Today, we know her as the Bloody Countess."

"Like Dracula?" Jazz blurted, excited still.

Barns laughed. "No, she's not Dracula." He paused and then smirked. "Well, at least in name she isn't."

"Who the frag is Dracula?" Vortex asked, confused. Thundercracker shrugged; he didn't think it would be too important to know.

"A fictional monster. Regardless, this story is about a real life woman and the story is true," Barns said, continuing strongly. "Her name was Elizabeth Bathory, a countess of Hungary."

Bluestreak tilted his helm. "Of 'hungry'?"

The humans laughed and Barns shook his head. "No, Hung _a_ ry. It was a country. Anyway, she was a countess, or a baroness, depending the story variation." He leaned in closer, resting his arms on his bent knee. "She was very beautiful, but obsessed with her vanity. She wanted to be beautiful forever, ageless. She turned to magic and dark spells, but nothing seemed to work."

"I didn't think magic was evil," Bluestreak interrupted, surprised. "Kass, I thought you said it was good."

"It could be good, but Elizabeth used it for evil things," Barns answered for Kass, who seemed to flounder under his question.

Vortex, ever the critic, couldn't understand either. "How is trying to be attractive evil, though? Maybe stupid and vain, but…"

"I'm getting to that point," Barns said, frowning at the two mechs, who reluctantly withheld further questioning. The Frenchman went on talking. "She at last came to a point of desperation as old age threatened to rob her of her remaining looks. A servant annoyed her one day and she struck her. Blood from the young woman landed on Elizabeth's skin, and to her amazement, seemed to make the skin younger and healthier."

"That's bullshit," Rachel interrupted dully. Wildrider laughed.

"Yes, but she believed it!" Barns said, laughing as well. He made a crude motion against his throat as he spoke on. "So much so, that she began to kill her servants. She bathed in their blood, as if it were water. She drank it. She became so obsessed with the curative power of a young woman's blood, she soon had to look outside of her castle. She lured in more unwitting women and killed them all."

Bluestreak looked stunned. "…She… _ate_ people?" he said, strained.

Barns nodded. "Yes. Well, their blood."

"That is so gross," Danny said, making a face of disgust; the Cybertronians seemed to agree. Human blood was not designed to be re-ingested. Why would they even try it?

"Not to mention idiotic," Vortex said, sneering. "How the frag would blood make you look look better?"

Kass snorted. "Maybe bathing in mech-blood would work better," she said, sarcastic.

Rachel grinned at her friend. "Yeah, so pretty, your skin falls off."

"No matter!" Barns exclaimed loudly, breaking up their laughter. "She wound up killing hundreds of young women, torturing them horribly. Finally, the government discovered her atrocities and put an end to it. Over six hundred women had died, had been devoured."

The logical thing would be that the countess was executed for her crimes. Such a fate was well-deserved, if not under-sufficient, Thundercracker thought to himself. Human politics were notoriously weird, though, especially further back in history, he had learned.

"What happened to Elizabeth?" Bluestreak asked, looking concerned.

"Being royalty, they couldn't kill her. They locked her away in her own castle, where she died four years later," Barns said, surprising the mechs. He leaned in closer, motioning vaguely with his hands, his voice dropping just ever so slightly, his grin unsettling. "They say you can still hear the screams of the tortured women if you go near the castle, and there is always a light on inside the rooms Elizabeth had been condemned to."

A silence fell over the clearing and Thundercracker was sure the only sound in the entire area was the wood crackling in the fire. Barns sat back, smiling contentedly.

Vortex was the first to recover. "That wasn't scary," he snapped. "That was gross."

"I tried!" Barns laughed, cheerful. He brought his knees up to his chest and peered around at the others. "Next?"

Thundercracker didn't envy the human body often, but like Jazz, he often wished he could roll his eyes. He would have at that moment as everyone nervously chattered, all reluctant to be the next one to tell a story. He decided to move up closer and sat behind Rachel, who, as usual in the evening, used him as a backrest. He didn't mind the woman doing so; he had grown used to the strange human quirk of needing physical touch in relationships.

Bluestreak had looked up when Thundercracker moved closer and then looked down at Rachel as she was moving. The gunner's face immediately brightened. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Rachel, why don't you tell us a story next?"

Thundercracker had seen that coming the moment Barns brought the game up. Rachel blanched and gave Bluestreak a wary shake of the head. "Uh, no," she replied, making a face.

"Why not?" Danny asked, leaning forward. She smiled. "You're so good at it!"

Rachel shook her head again, leaning further back into Thundercracker's leg. "No, I'm not…"

"I've read some of the poems you've written and you're always writing on walls, as if they were parts of books," Wheeljack added, apparently agreeing with the other two. "You're quite good."

"Thanks, but I can't _tell_ stories…" Rachel muttered, picking at her blanket. "Not, like, out loud."

Danny reached over Barns and poked the blond-haired woman's knee. "What's the difference?" she teased. "Come onnnn, Rachel. Tell us a scary story."

"Yes, let's hear," Wildrider added, merciless.

"Okay…" Rachel muttered. She took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself. Thundercracker peered down at her, curious as to what sort of story she had to share; she didn't like to talk about her talents, but none of the humans (save for Danny and her voice) seemed keen on talking about their skills. Rachel sighed. "Okay. Once… there was a woman, a girl, who lived an ordinary life with her family. They lived in a city, but had a big house."

Barns arched an eyebrow. "Riveting." Kass and Danny laughed.

Rachel glared daggers at him. "Oh, shut up, I don't know how pre-war people lived outside of books!" she snapped. "Anyway, she was ordinary."

"Vhat vas her name?" Wildrider asked.

Hesitating, Rachel had to think about it. "Um… Alexa. She was about sixteen years old and was a good student mostly. She was really quiet around classmates, kept to herself… but she was a good person," Rachel said. "There was nothing wrong with her mentally or anything."

"Insane people make things creepier," Kass offered, chuckling.

Vortex grinned. "Yeah, just talking to Wildrider once a day proves that."

Wildrider growled and glared at the helicopter, who sneered back. Rachel coughed loudly and glared at both of them before turning back to the others.

"She didn't think she was mental and there was no other sign that there was something wrong," she said, trying to go for a story-telling voice like Barns had used; unfortunately, Rachel could never get the same amount of emotion in her voice, so it fell flat. "In fact, the day she did notice something was wrong, she thought it was easier to just think something supernatural was going on. But she never did find out.

"The morning was like any other morning. She got up, got dressed, ate breakfast… but as she was getting ready to leave for class, she stopped herself by the door. They had a big mirror by the entrance to their house and something in her reflection caught her eye. It was dark, whatever it was, but gone when she turned around fully to look at it."

"Was it a ghost?" Jazz asked, insistent.

Arcee frowned at him. "Let her finish," she reprimanded.

Rachel continued as if not deterred. "She didn't know what it was, but it scared her," she said. "She went to school, but every time she passed by something with a reflective surface, she'd see something dart out of the corner of her eye. It kept going on all day long.

"Finally… she got home. No one else was there yet, so she wasn't expecting anyone to speak in the house." Rachel paused just for a moment and then said, "But when she sat down to do her homework… she heard someone say, 'hello.'"

Jazz leaned back arrogantly. "Called it, ghost."

"Christ, would you let me finish?" Rachel demanded, angry, even though some of the others laughed. She huffed, continuing. "Alexa got scared, but thought it was her imagination. It kept talking though and she got more and more frightened, running from her bedroom all the way to her bathroom. She kept hearing whispers and started to beg with the voice to stop and to show itself. It was going to drive her insane.

"The voice stopped whispering and for a moment, Alexa thought it was over, that it had just been some sort of hallucination. But she could feel the presence at the back of her mind, lurking," Rachel continued. "Shaken, she leaned on the bathroom counter and tried to get a grip on her emotions. Then, just as she thought she was safe… she heard a faint whisper.

"'Where are you?' Alexa whispered back, afraid to find out the answer. She felt a chill run down her spine and without realizing it, she knew to look up. Slowly, she lifted her head and stared into the glass. Her haunted gaze stared back at her and it was only her in the glass.

"But all it took for her last remaining strength to leave her was one last whisper, from the darkest reaches of her mind—," Rachel suddenly stopped. She leaned forward slightly and pointed at her face. " 'Look,' the voice said as her own eyes widened back at her, 'there I am.'"

Rachel sat back, looking jittery from having to tell the story, and another silence fell over the group, as if the others were waiting.

"That was it?" Arcee asked, curious.

Rachel's uneasy frown deepened. "…Yes."

"That wasn't scary," Vortex said bluntly. "That was just weird."

"Goddamn it! See what I mean?" Rachel exclaimed suddenly, waving her arms. She huffed, frustrated. "If it were on paper, it'd be way better. I have no dramatic flair!"

Jazz laughed. "Oh, you got dramatic flair, Rach, only specifically rage-flair. Not theatrical flair."

Scowl transfigured by the firelight, Rachel seethed at her guardian. "I hate you," she muttered.

"You _love_ me," Jazz replied confidently. Rachel sunk down against Thundercracker and refused to look at the saboteur.

"I liked it. I thought it was creepy," Danny offered, smiling at her friend. "Creepy works, too."

Rachel continued to sulk. "Hmph."

"I'll tell the next one," Danny continued, ignoring the other woman. "Okay, this one is really good."

Kass stared at the brunette, surprised. "How did _you_ hear about a ghost story we haven't heard of?" she asked, incredulous. She and the other two humans had had the chance to live in human environments for much longer periods of time than Danny ever had.

Danny huffed in irritation. "I got to read stuff, just like you! 'Jack taught me to read really fast, so he let me get books from libraries and book stores," she stated, crossing her arms against her chest. "I found a book of scary stories, _and_ a zombie comic book."

Thundercracker had no idea what a zombie was (and he certainly didn't find comic books interesting at all), but Wheeljack looked aghast.

"Oh, Primus," he said in agitation, half-joking, half-seriously upset. "Was that what you refused to show me for weeks?"

Danny immediately paused and everyone except for Thundercracker and Arcee started to smile; as much as Danny could joke around, she was always the 'good daughter.' "Um… yes?" she offered Wheeljack, who shook his head, bemused.

"Well… it could have been worse," the scientist said, chuckling.

Of course, Jazz was in full out teasing mode, so he tried to worsen the situation. "Like what? Porn?" he asked deviously.

"ANYWAY!" Danny yelled, waving her hands at them. "This is a story about zombies!"

"What's a zom-bee?" Arcee asked, startled. The word did sound rather bizarre; Thundercracker always found it odd that the English language didn't use its entire alphabet in equal amounts. He noticed 'q', 'z' and 'x' were particularly absent from normal conversation. Humans were weird, even with language apparently.

Barns laughed and took on a dramatic voice. "The living dead," he said, grinning.

Vortex, Bluestreak and Arcee just stared blankly at him. "What?" Arcee asked again, as if not sure she heard him correctly.

"That's an oxymoron," Vortex added, grinning nastily. "Rookie isn't going to understand."

Bluestreak, who probably had more nicknames than any of the others, looked upset by the comment. "What makes you say that? I might!" he exclaimed. While Vortex was often mean to Bluestreak, even Kass seemed to agree with the helicopter's statement; Bluestreak was seemingly immune to any understanding of figures of speech or the like.

Danny snapped her fingers—another interesting human ability—and stopped an argument from cropping up. "Stop interrupting!" she commanded. "Zombies are dead people who've come back to life, but are still corpse-like and just want to go around eating people." Eloquent.

Vortex shook his head, as if baffled. "For some fraggin' reason, humans seem to think eating each other is the worst possible scenario," he mumbled, settling in closer to the fire now. While stupid, the entire event was a rather nice way to get them all talking together, Thundercracker realized.

"It is a _little_ gross, lookin' at them," Jazz conceded, laughing. "If eatin' each other is anythin' like eatin' a dead animal, then yeah, disgustin'."

Kass raised an eyebrow of incredulity. "What, don't tell me you're okay with eating other mechs?" she asked.

"We can't eat each other," Thundercracker deadpanned. "That's impossible. Hence, not a problem."

"Organic bodies are terrible," Wildrider added smugly. "Look at mess they cause."

"Oh, shut up!" Rachel yelled, though it was mostly in jest. She looked back at Danny, thankfully out of her brooding mood now. "Back to the story?"

Danny nodded firmly. "Right. Well, the story takes place in a simple little town—not too many people lived there, but a few hundred." She smiled brightly, getting into the story quickly, her voice making it seem so natural. "They are all really nice and open-minded folk. They rarely had strangers go through their town, since they were situation in a narrow valley, but one day…"

Danny was another great speaker, and thus, a far better story teller than Rachel, even if the topic was less complex. Thundercracker listened as Danny spoke. The human quickly ensnared the attentions of the others and a silence—only broken by Danny's words—fell over the camp.

"…didn't know what was wrong with him. The sheriff had the stranger locked up in the jail and tried to make sense of what had happened. When the coroner—the person who cleans up dead bodies—took a look at the murder victim, he said the stranger had taken a _bite_ outta the poor townsperson. 'Who would eat someone else?' the sheriff had to ask. They thought they were dealing with some crazy guy, but the weirdness just kept happening."

"Weirdness?" Kass interrupting, laughing. "Sure, random hobo attacked a school teacher. That's just weird, not disturbing."

"Oh, hush." Danny went on. "The sheriff went home that night, but late in the night, he got a call to go back to the jailhouse. Something was wrong, his deputy told him. He got back, but the whole building was locked up. He could hear screaming inside, so he bashed the front window and climbed in. He followed a long blood trail through the hallway, all the way down to the stairs, which lead to the coroner's office."

Wheeljack's eyes and dimmed earfins made it seem like he was frowning behind the mask. "Maybe I should have insisted on reading this book before letting you read it…" he muttered. Jazz laughed.

Danny didn't stop and continued with increasing fervor. "The sheriff took out his gun and went down the stairs. The screaming stopped. He managed to get down to the lab and saw something moving behind the doors. Two figures were on the floor and the sheriff opened the door slowly to get a better look." Danny made all the motions as she described them. Why did humans do that? It was silly. "The doctor was on the floor, his blood spilling out from his chest and neck. His attacker?" Danny grinned, malicious. "The dead school teacher. He was face-first into the doctor's chest and when he heard the sheriff approach, he looked up, and there were pieces of flesh hanging from his—"

Suddenly, Bluestreak reached up and covered his faceplates with his hands. "Oh, Primus, stop," he said, voice muffled just slightly.

"What, you scared?" Danny asked, grinning.

"It—it's gross!" the mech exclaimed, removing his hands. He looked sickened—and then, a look of horrified shock filled his expression. "…Oh…Primus… what if the _cannibals_ are zombies? !"

The silence that followed made Thundercracker want to drop his face into his palm. Cannibals sometimes bothered their group but never posed a real threat (the mechs would have killed the rogue humans before letting them near their humans). Still, they were a disturbing threat to add to their list of foes on Earth.

"Holy _shit_ ," Rachel whispered conspiratorially after a tense moment, but she was grinning, teasing.

Bluestreak, as usual, missed the joke and descended into a panic, now completely convinced that zombies were real and the cannibals were undead corpses. Vortex was equally paranoid about Earth creatures, usually small ones, but he was beginning to get agitated over the idea of undead opponents.

"We've never actually tried to kill them!" he insisted. Jazz was laughing hard now and Thundercracker was very seriously contemplating punching both Vortex and Bluestreak in the helms to get them to shut up.

Kass thankfully was more tactful. "Don't scare them more!" she chided, to Rachel and Danny. She looked over at their resident sniper, sympathetic but firm. "Blue, there are _no_ such things as zombies."

"B-but they eat people!" he cried, as if that meant anything. _Everything_ ate each other on this planet, Thundercracker mused.

Barns smiled at the frustrated mech. "Only that. Zombies eat people and then the remains become reanimated," he reassured him. The humans had amazing patience for the less-controlled Cybertronians; Wheeljack blamed it on reproduction instinct, but that never made _any_ sense to Thundercracker. He just left it at they were sentimental saps.

And for some unknown reason, Barns' reassurance worked. "…Oh." Bluestreak frowned, uneasy, but calmer. "It's still creepy! Can you imagine? What if you shot a drone and it got back up again? Or a mech!"

"Well, it'd be great if we could bring people back to life!" Wheeljack exclaimed immediately, earfins annoyingly bright in the darkened field. The firelight was beginning to dim now.

"People that ate your brains?" Danny asked, giggling. "Or in mech cases, your spark?"

"…No. I suppose that part wouldn't be too great," the scientist said, sounding thoughtful. "If only we could get rid of that part."

Thundercracker sighed as the group started to bicker about the benefits and negative aspects of zombies being real. He really didn't see a point in even listening into the conversation.

Kass suddenly made a tsk-ing sound. "Ah, the fire's dying."

"Haha, I'll go get some more wood," Jazz said, standing, still feeling goofy apparently. "Don't stop on my count. Keep going."

"Alright, who's next?" Barns said, taking over the responsibity of continuing the story telling.

"Me! I vill go!" Wildrider yelled, cutting off Vortex. He bounced up and down on the ground, visibly thrilled. He seemed to focus his speaking to the humans, who were probably going to be more influenced by any story Wildrider would tell; the other mechs just thought he was deranged. "I vill tell you of time stupid neutral ran into Motormaster. Ve vere on moon neutral base Decepticons had just taken. Ve Stunticons vent around base and stupid mech ran into Motormaster."

"He was your boss, right?" Rachel asked, curious. She wasn't that good with names; they all had been _regaled_ many times by Wildrider about his previous teammates' exploits.

"Yes, big boss. Not as big-big as Thundercracker-boss, but close," Wildrider replied, surprisingly coherent. He kept talking, clearly eager to tell the winning story. "No von just runs into Motormaster, you see."

Danny was trying to hide a smile. "I see."

"Motormaster ripped into mech, who kept screaming and screaming, but Motormaster took his time, like vhen Kass takes bath." Kass glared at him. Wildrider chuckled. "At that point, even I said, 'Stop, you go to far,' but to interrupt vould be suicide. I am not suicidal."

"That's not what your battle plans say," Arcee said shortly, glancing at him accusingly. Wheeljack laughed shortly, because it was true.

"Ha! You are just vimp. Anyvay," Wildrider continued, "ve vatched for long time—I don't know how long, but it was avhile. The screaming stopped, but mech kept twitching. Motormaster vas getting bored quick, so he started to…"

Thundercracker watched the scene unfold rather quickly and he almost couldn't help but smirk. Wildrider had noticed during his chattering that the humans were staring at him, but not with fear. They just… stared at him, and then at each other. Wildrider's grin faded and he stared back with a frown.

"Vhy not scared?" he asked, confused.

Barns, ever the diplomat, tried to be nice about it. "'Rider… you told us this story a few months ago."

"Yeah, I remember," Danny agreed. She smiled, sympathetic. "And it's not really scary as much as disturbing, but good try!"

Wildrider looked devastated. "B-but— _fine_!" He hesitated and then looked inspired. "I vill tell you about time Motormaster vas assigned to Constructicon shuttle and ve—"

Rachel, leaning against Thundercracker's leg again, smirked. "Heard it."

"—Vhat about time ve vere on lava planet—?"

"That wasn't scary," Kass countered. That meant something, considering she got unnerved quite easily.

Wildrider stared down at the humans with a mixture of confusion and dismay. "Those are scary stories, yes?"

Wheeljack chuckled and patted the red-and-black car on the back. "Face it, Wildrider, you don't scare them anymore," he said, sympathetic.

"But—! I have _Decepticon_ stories! Decepticon stories are _scary_!"

"At first, maybe, but it's really not that shocking anymore," Danny replied, giggling. "Between you and Vortex, we've heard a lot of Decepticon stories. I guess we're immune."

Wildrider just stared at her, utterly dismayed. "It is not fair," he said, slumping.

The humans were laughing, but doing their best to cheer him up. Thundercracker understood more about Autobot and human psychology than he ever had before, but their way of just… _empathizing_ with everyone and everything just frazzled his processors sometimes. They were so forgiving and nice about things that would have earned mechs like Wildrider an injury or even execution in the Decepticon army.

Yes, this life was infinitely better, Thundercracker thought to himself, content to listen to his friends bicker. It was weirder, but he wouldn't trade it back for the army. Ever.

"What about you, Kass? Got any stories?" Wheeljack asked after a bit, distracting the others and the melancholy Wildrider.

Kass hesitated, and to everyone's surprise, had an affirmative answer. "Well… it's not a real scary story, but it's a real ghost story," she said, smiling shyly.

"Real?" repeated Bluestreak.

"Yes. It's something I experienced myself," she replied, now becoming a little smug. It was bizarre; she was always the quiet, humble one.

"What? ! Really?" Rachel gushed, suddenly excited. "You saw a ghost?" It seemed strange that the atheist in their group would be excited for a real ghost story. Then again, humans were obsessed with the occult. The whole night proved it.

"Well, I didn't really see it, but the entire camp knew about it," Kass replied. "She—the ghost—was kind of like an urban legend everyone humored, but I heard and felt her myself. She's real."

"Who was she?" Danny asked, in awe. Everyone had quieted down again to listen in with interest. Thundercracker was a little curious, too.

"She was an old woman when she died, and apparently wasn't really interesting while alive, but she died about a month or two before my family joined the camp," Kass explained. She lacked the story-telling finesse Barns and Danny had, but she was very good at just telling the facts as they were; it came in handy for a story that was supposedly true, Thundercracker considered. "While taking the wash out to the back of the caves to dry near an opening, she slipped and fell down some rocks and broke her neck. Ever since, she's haunted the backs and laundry areas of the cave. That's where I encountered her."

Barns' eyebrows had risen rather high on his forehead. "Wow. What happened?"

"Well, mum gave me the job of taking the wash out to the back way to dry. We all washed the clothes together, but hanging it up was generally left to us kids." Kass was smiling, but it was obvious that the story did in fact bother her. "That day, I had been stuck babysitting Kevin for a while, so I was late. I ended up going to the laundry by myself. It wasn't scary, really, but I had heard about the ghost, so I was a little nervous."

"Did it scream at you?" Danny asked, insistent. "Ghosts like to do that."

"No…" Kass shuddered and looked ill for a moment, remembering. "I was hanging up our shirts when out of no where—and I mean, I was the only person alive in that room—I felt as though someone had come up behind me—and then flapped a sheet of laundry right behind my head." She made a strange motion with her hand. "You know the sound of cloth flapping, right? Scared me silly! I ran right out of there and wouldn't do the laundry alone ever again."

There was a long… long pause in conversation. Eventually, Barns had to, awkwardly, bring it up. "…Wait… so it… haunted your _laundry_?" he asked, sounding confused, but there was a smiling crawling its way onto his face. Wildrider looked ready to burst out laughing.

At first, Kass just nodded. "Yes." She paused, frowning at their smiles. "What?"

"Not very scary," Wildrider said smugly.

Kass blanched and then freaked. "SHE FLAPPED A SHEET RIGHT BY MY HEAD!" she exclaimed, as if that justified anything. Thundercracker sighed; he really wasn't that surprised by her story. All humans overreacted.

Danny frowned. "Better than like stabbing you or screaming, right?"

"It was _scary_ ," Kass huffed, crossing her arms against her chest. "You've never experienced anything, so you wouldn't know how creepy it is."

"I thought I felt something before, in a patch of woods before," Rachel said suddenly, looking just as ill as Kass had looked before. "The other campers said they were haunted and it was creepy sleeping there. Like someone was watching you."

Bluestreak looked nervous. "I get that feeling too…" he began, "and then we run into drones."

"Drones equal ghosts now?" Vortex asked, sarcastic.

"Well, personally, I'd take them flapping bed sheets at my head over them trying to rip me apart," Barns offered calmly, stretching.

Everyone laughed in agreement, even though it was a grim joke, and Thundercracker rumbled, shaking his head.

"Your turn, Vortex," Danny stated, everyone looking over at the helicopter.

"Seriously?" Vortex didn't look happy. " _Great_ … I don't know stories."

"Transformers never had myths or legends?" Barns asked, curious. He had already asked Wheeljack about their folklore and it was, unsurprisingly, quite lacking when compared to human culture. The humans were always kind of pitying whenever they realized the Cybertronians never really had holidays, as if that was a bad thing. These human ones were nothing but chaos.

"None that you'd find particularly scary," Thundercracker replied, feeling as though he might as well talk once in a while, particularly when they brought up things he actually knew about.

"…Well…" Vortex hesitated. "You've never heard of Unicron, have you?"

"Uni-what?" Rachel repeated, making a face. "Is that a mech?"

"It's the closest thing we have to a devil," Vortex replied lowly.

 _That_ immediately attracted the humans' attentions.

"Tell us about him then!" Danny demanded, excited. Thundercracker could understand their excitement, a little at least. It was always interesting when they could somehow connect their two very different worlds.

Vortex didn't look comfortable telling a story with everyone looking at him, but he did do his best. "You know Primus right?" he began roughly. "He's the Creator. He made everything—more specifically the Transformers. Gave us life, the first sparks. He is benevolent, mostly. Or at least, never tried to harm life."

Kass frowned. "What about Unicron?" she asked.

"He's the Destroyer." Vortex spoke so bluntly, it probably hid the fact that he and the other mechs were all suddenly more uneasy than the humans were. Thundercracker looked at the ground as the helicopter continued; this wasn't anyone's favorite story. "He and Primus vied for power in the beginning of time, Primus creating matter, Unicron ripping it apart. Everything was chaos." Vortex shifted. "Primus was weaker, though, because he spent so much time creating. Unicron wanted to get rid of his brother. He could have. He tried.

"You see, when time began, Unicron began. He saw life as a awful thing and destroyed all of it—except for one single fragment, which grew into Primus."

"He… he destroyed everything? Even matter?" Barns asked, astonished.

"Yes. He was a god," Vortex replied. He sounded much more subdued than normal. "Anyway, when Unicron saw Primus and what he was doing—recreating life as well as our race—he tried to kill Primus and the two fought. They fought for eons, both in the physical world as well as the astral plane." Thundercracker already knew the story—all of the Transformers did—but it was still always chilling to listen to it spoken. "Finally, when both were worn down, and the battle seemed to go in Primus' favor, Unicron knew he had to act. He saw the race Primus had created and made his own follower to carry out his deeds, undermining Primus."

Kass, again, seemed uneasy. "He does sound like the devil," she murmured. Rachel snorted.

"Yes." Vortex sat back and motioned with his hands. "It finally came down to a battle to end their feud. Primus' strength was dwindling and he knew he had to stop Unicron, even at the cost of his own life." The humans had leaned, eyes wide, listening intently. Everyone was, really. "Primus struck out with all of his power and Unicron, did the same, his follower doing likewise. But in the middle of everything, when the two titans clashed, Unicron raised up and—"

" _YAAA_!"

Thundercracker, in his defense, only jumped a little when Jazz came out of the darkness of the trees and latched onto Vortex's shoulders. Everyone else, however, screamed bloody murder.

" _JESUS CHRIST_ , WHO IS THAT—? !"

"Primus Above, what on Earth—? !"

" _NOM D'UNE PIPE_!"

" _FUCK_!"

Jazz, cackling, rushed away from Vortex, who had fallen over (nearly on top of Danny and Arcee, Thundercracker noted darkly) after Jazz had jumped on him. Thundercracker growled when the saboteur decided it was safe enough behind him while the rest of their group quickly went from terrified to enraged.

"YOU SCARED THE _SHIT_ OUT OF ME!" Rachel screeched, clearly angrier than scared, though she was half on top of Bluestreak now. How she had flown from Thundercracker's leg all the way over there, Thundercracker had no idea; humans were like squirrels when frightened.

Barns, almost as if deflating, collapsed onto his blankets. " _Moi aussi_ ," he said, his voice warbling.

"I thought you vere bear!" Wildrider accused, unusually angry. Normally, Thundercracker would have thought the mech would find the situation funny. Perhaps he had been honestly scared by it.

The humans were particularly frazzled, but no one was as angry as Vortex was. Thundercracker, for just a moment, thought maybe he would have to intervene on Jazz's behalf (even if the fragger wouldn't stop laughing hysterically) when the helicopter stood, looming in a rage.

"YOU _IDIOT_!" Vortex snarled, pointing accusingly at the Autobot hiding behind Thundercracker. "Why the _frag_ would you _do_ that? !"

"I couldn't resist!" Jazz replied, laughing still. He peeked around Thundercracker's chest, grinning. "M' sorry, m'sorry, really! I didn't think it would scare y'all so much."

"If I had any energy at all, I would have stabbed you in the face!" Vortex yelled, engines revving. Almost instinctively, Thundercracker leaned forward, optics narrowed. He didn't think Vortex would actually attack, but Jazz had gone a little too far this time.

Wheeljack, sensing the impending trouble, waved his hands. "Okay, okay, everyone be calm," he insisted firmly. He sent Jazz a disapproving stare. "Jazz, that was really stupid."

"Awww, it was fun," Jazz whined, finally descending into chuckles. Thankfully, he seemed a bit humbled by Vortex's anger. "I'm sorry, I am."

"Jerk," Kass muttered, surprising Thundercracker. Arcee laughed shortly, probably amused by the generally quiet girl's comment, too. She had probably been the most shocked next to Vortex over Jazz's surprise attack.

"Perhaps we should call it a night. I think we've had enough scares to last a while," Arcee suggested. Thundercracker couldn't agree more and Wheeljack nodded as well.

"Aww, but I haven't gone yet!" Bluestreak complained, despondent. "Can I go? Please?"

"Fuck that, I'm done with this," Vortex snapped. He moved back, probably to get to sleep himself. "Sit down and recharge."

Danny frowned at the helicopter. "Vortex, if he wants to tell a story, let him," she said, her voice just a little tighter than the normally friendly woman spoke.

"Maybe we should just drop it," Barns countered, eyeing the irritated mech warily.

Bluestreak pouted and that instantly upset Kass. "Why not one more? Please, Vortex?" she pleaded, biting her lip nervously.

"You treat him like a sparkling! He's a grown mech!" Vortex snarled back.

"It's just for fun!" Danny said, now getting irritated, too. Thundercracker realized that perhaps this _was_ going to escalate into a problem. The humans rarely ever got mad at the mechs (well, when Jazz and Wildrider weren't teasing them, at least).

"A'ight, calm down, calm down," Jazz began, waving his hands at them.

"Says the one who almost gave us heart-attacks," Rachel snapped, glaring.

Thundercracker rumbled lowly and realized, with a heavy sigh, that he was going to have to do what he had dreaded since the beginning of the whole event.

Leaning forward, he easily captured the group's attention just by looming. When every optic and eye was situated on him—he started.

"Starscream used to be an exploratory scientist. I used to work as an assistant just prior to the war. That's how I met him and Skywarp," he began quietly. "Starscream used to tell us stories of the places he visited. Most were uneventful geological surveys. Others were un-sentient life forms. Very rarely did he ever meet a sentient one. He told us about one of those rare visits."

He was not exaggerating to say he had every single one of them staring at him with varying degrees of shock and growing unease. He continued.

"They were an exploratory, organic race. I don't remember what they were called, but they had reached a level of space travel just slightly higher than what Earth used to have. They had large mining operations in various locations. One of the groups Starscream met told him about one of those operations. The only reason they knew about the ship was because they found the wreckage and the captain's log nearly three decades later, everyone on board missing or in pieces." After all, corpses didn't decay in open space. "The ship had to stop due to mechanical failure, from what they figure. Something in the cargo hold had either exploded or caused a reaction in their ship's nuclear core. A team had been sent in to look for the cause of the damages, but they never reported back.

"Video logs and corresponding notes from crew members still surviving on the hard drives of the main computer indicated that something alive got loose. They were light years from even basic communication with any support. Any teams sent down into the bowels of the ship were ripped apart—they heard screams all the way up into the upper levels. The video logs showed something dark running around, but only in the shadows. It didn't like light."

"Eventually the power shut off in the lower levels and the thing went everywhere, killing everything. The thing was, the ship's log and the reports never meshed up. There was more than one, eventually. Either it was reproducing quicker than any creature they knew of, or it was making more out of the dead crewmen. No one ever got a good look."

He saw Kass shrink back into Bluestreak, who looked mildly traumatized himself. He kept going.

"The entire crew frantically tried to defend themselves, but there weren't any weapons on a civilian ship. All of their weapons were defensive, on the outside. They had no reason before then to except to be hunted down inside of their own ship," he said, his voice as calm as it was normally. That didn't stop the others from growing more and more disturbed. "They were hunted down like animals. The last video log was the captain. He had been attacked and was dying. He ended up cutting his throat open to end the pain."

"Only thing was… the video log kept going for a long time. His corpse kept moving, jerking around, making noises. The video eventually stopped and the entire ship went offline." Thundercracker paused, remembering the story the way Starscream had told it to him. "Eventually, the ship got torn up by space debris. When the ship that found them finally got on board, all they found were corpses. The case was closed… except for one fact."

He leaned forward, pinning his gaze on the impressionable humans.

"They never found a creature."

A total silence followed the ending of his story and Thundercracker was pretty sure he did a good job ending the conflict, because even the stoic Arcee and Vortex seemed cowed by the story.

After at least a minute or two, Barns cleared his throat. "…So…I guess TC wins?" he began, voice wavering _just_ slightly as he gazed around the circle.

It was almost comical, how much in unison the majority of the group was when they replied, "Yes."

Thundercracker sighed and rolled over. "Good night." He was most pleased when everyone agreed and got ready to sleep.

 **0000**

 _Twenty Minutes Later_

"Wheeljack?"

"Hmm? What's wrong, kids?"

"C-can we sleep in you tonight?"

"…Jazz, I blame you for this."

From across the field, Jazz yelled, "TC did it!"

Thundercracker groaned and offlined his optics.

 

* * *

 **End** _**Halloween** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Vortex has more love problems and their names are Mommy-Jazz and Daddy-TC.**

  


* * *

**  
**

**A/Ns:**  
-The humans (in this case, Rachel) all have had access to old books, fiction included, so they would know various old ways of living, such as within Rachel's story. Rachel also writes her own fiction/poetry, as mentioned here; that plus the other humans' creative endeavors will be brought up later.


	21. Formal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _2051 AD_

"Okay. Okay, so… what? You're giving up?"

Vortex snorted. "What the frag else am I going to do?"

Danny sighed and continued to pick apart the flower in her hands. "I dunno… you're always complaining about it, so obviously it still bothers you. You can't just give up, not about something like this."

"Spoken from experience?" Vortex sneered, glancing up at her. It was kind of hard to do, lying down, but she turned around to look at him.

"Ha, funny," she replied dryly. She flicked the flower at his helm. "Seriously, 'Tex, you gotta man up."

Which was an entirely ironic statement, Vortex seethed. The whole problem was that he was not… well… a man. A hu _man_.

It was a chilly spring morning, but bright out for once. Vortex had attempted to relax up on a knoll by himself, but Danny had insisted on joining him, claiming he had looked "down" recently. He didn't think he had been that obvious, but humans were disturbingly perceptive when it came to emotions, especially Danny.

"And how should I do that? Beat the slag out of both Jazz and Thundercracker… and not die in the process?" he demanded, sitting up slightly, his propellers hanging loosely on his back.

He could totally beat Jazz down. Maybe. But Thundercracker? There was no fragging way. And they never strayed too far apart anyway. Fighting them together would be instant suicide, not to mention one of the other Autobots were sure to join the fray out of instinct. Arcee would just be waiting for a chance to leap in…

"No, no, not like Chuck Norris-manly, but _mature_ -manly," Danny insisted. Whoever the frag Chuck Norris was, Vortex thought. "You should talk to them. Like an adult. Ask them formally for their permission to court Rachel."

"What the frag?" he sneered. "Did you pick that up in some kind of human ritual manual?"

"I read books about it. They're fictional and Barns said it was kinda old-world stuff, but whatever. The concept's the same," Danny said, scowling. "I mean, you have the right to feel the way you want to feel. They can't berate you for that. If you want to act on it, however, it'd be respectful to ask both them and her."

 _Her_. Meaning Rachel. Vortex was pretty sure Rachel had no idea what was going on behind her back, even as this unusual drama unfolded concerning her. The only reason Danny knew was because the brat was almost as keen as Jazz was about social drama.

Rachel… Vortex heaved a sigh. It wasn't fair, not at all. He thought he could have trained himself to move on, but how could anyone move on from being infatuated with someone when that person was one of the few people he saw every single day? It wasn't like there were other mechs around (and none of their group attracted him, that was for sure) and he didn't think looking for another human would be a good idea either. He wasn't even sure he knew why he liked Rachel; she just… made him feel different.

"You'll never get past this by moping and avoiding the topic," Danny continued, her voice strangely taking on a musical tone, mocking. "I bet Jazz is waiting for you to bring it up anyway."

Oh, Vortex surmised the same thing. Neither Jazz nor Thundercracker would let him sit by or walk near Rachel after their ill-fated confrontation months ago. They were paranoid. Indignant anger always sprung up in Vortex's spark; what the frag could possibly happen? None of them were ever alone, since it was dangerous to try to move away from the group. Even if they were alone, Vortex couldn't fathom what he could do, aside from killing or maiming her, but he doubted he had the willpower to even dare to try to do that. Rachel meant more to him than anyone had in a long time.

They were trapped in a world of no-action, even if she reciprocated his feelings. Their kind weren't compatible in any way other than exterior friendship. Even still… perhaps just knowing it was reciprocated would feel better than just waiting around with questions hanging over his spark. Vortex didn't dare wonder what she felt; he didn't want to imagine her saying 'no' any more than he wanted to hear her say 'yes.'

"I wouldn't know how to begin to ask," he muttered darkly, turning away.

Danny laughed—a delicate, musical sound; humans had such amazing vocalization—and moved up beside him. "Just ask!" she said cheerfully. "The worst that could happen is that they say no."

Vortex paused. "…Or kill me," he said, darkly. Thundercracker was more intent on intimidation, but Jazz could easily convince the jet to do serious damage.

Danny didn't seem that alarmed. "Well, me and 'Jack will back you up," she said confidently. "I'm pretty sure Blue is cheering you on, too."

 _That_ made Vortex feel _so_ much better. "Just great. I have a squishy, a scientist and a moron on my side," he snapped, only half-sarcastic. "Fragging pit, I'm screwed."

Smiling gently, Danny picked up another flower. "Just remember, even though they're all protective of Rachel, Jazz and TC are your friends," she said, glancing up at him with honest eyes. "We all are. We'll support you."

Sentimentality. _Bah_. Vortex looked away and scowled behind his battle mask. Even if it was sappy, he knew Danny was right. If the other two mechs did go effectively batshit and try to attack him, he was sure the other mechs would step in.

…Maybe.

"If I get slagged, I blame you completely," he snarled, resigning himself to a potential world of pain.

Danny grinned, flopping back onto the grass. "Love you, too, 'Tex."

 **0000**

It was a nerve-wracking afternoon. Dinner had been eaten and the majority of their group was settling in for the night, the fire dying slowly. Vortex had offered to take Wheeljack's place on sentry duty, knowing it was also Jazz's turn. It wasn't that strange a thing to do, really; Wheeljack had covered for him before and he and Jazz got along well. …On most things, at least.

Sentry duty was generally boring and uneventful. All of them were grateful for that; a night attack was not only incredibly more dangerous than one in the daytime, it was far more terrifying. The humans had poor night vision, and even with the mechs' ability to scan the drones were almost invisible in the darkness. Two mechs at a time stayed up for a portion of the evening while the others rested, changing post around one in the morning with another couple.

Normally, Vortex wouldn't have been so jittery, but tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight was when he would finally summon up the gall to approach Jazz. He didn't want to be pessimistic, or overdramatic, by thinking it might also be the night he was slagged by a fragged off Autobot, but in reality… it was quite possible.

Out of courtesy for the sleeping group, Jazz and Vortex moved a few yards away, radars on, and sat down facing the forest. Vortex knew they would be headed that way in the morning; more mountain paths.

"Ahh, I can't wait to be back in the valley," Jazz murmured, always the conversationalist.

Vortex didn't answer, but had to agree with the mech. He was so sick of rocks.

They fell into a comfortable silence—well, for Jazz it was probably comfortable. Vortex was pretty sure all his processors were overheating.

"Jazz?" he asked suddenly. He flinched, wanting to take the words back. _Well, it was now or never…_

Jazz didn't seem to notice his hesitance. "'Sup?"

Vortex hesitated. Gathering his nerves, he looked over at the silver mech. "I wanted to talk to you," he began carefully, minding his tone. He didn't want to give the Autobot the impression he was afraid. Even though he was.

"Shoot, mech," Jazz replied, grinning casually, glancing at him with a carefree attitude. Either he was pretending to not care, or he honestly didn't know what was coming. It was never easy to tell with Jazz.

Shifting, Vortex forced himself to meet Jazz's optics. "About Rachel," he said, and then he braced himself.

Jazz was a master of emotion, both naturally and learned from the humans. Vortex still saw a flicker of something, however, the moment he spoke and Jazz almost looked angry. Almost.

Instead of his usual smile, Jazz completely shut down. He sat back completely and stared out into the forest, silent.

Well, that went well. Vortex hissed lowly and moved around to face him, not going too close to the other mech. "Not talking about it isn't going to change a thing, Autobot," he growled.

"Yeah. I was kinda hoping you'd forget about it," Jazz replied coolly. Vortex wasn't used to this display from the saboteur. A quiet Jazz meant either he was plotting or angry. And an angry Jazz was nothing to scoff about. Just because he was small didn't mean he was a pushover, not at all.

Vortex scowled. "Not likely." It was difficult to forget a feeling as strong as that, and even more difficult to ignore the paranoia that Jazz and Thundercracker seemed to share whenever Vortex hung around. They were an eleven-person group; they couldn't avoid these encounters.

Jazz sighed and leaned back. "So… what did you want to talk about?" he asked. It was an innocent enough question but his tone seemed to take on a new defensive, sharp sound.

That didn't stop Vortex. He looked back out to the forest, hardening his spark. "You can't keep avoiding it. None of us can afford to keep ignoring it," he said, scowling. "It's going to start affecting the whole group." The awkwardness, the tension…

"I dunno what you mean," Jazz muttered.

Vortex gripped into the cold earth. "Cut the slag!" he hissed. "There's a problem. We need to fix it before—"

"Before what, 'Tex? What're you gonna do?" Jazz gave him a hideous glare. "You claim you got a crush on someone. Normally, you should act on it. But this ain't like yer head over heels for Wheeljack or somethin'." _Oh, slag, no._ "You're…"

The mech stumbled over his sentence. Vortex glared more. "I'm what?" he demanded.

Jazz, exasperated, motioned with his hand absently, a human gesture. "Yer a _mech_. She's a _human_. It won't work. It ain't natural and it's… wrong," he said, awkward. "Ethically. Physically." Jazz grimaced. "Psychologically."

Vortex sneered. "Are you just saying that because you're her guardian?" Jazz and Thundercracker seemed particularly corrupted when it came the roles of human guardians and mech guardians. They acted like "maternal fools" as Kass said once.

"What?" Jazz asked. He flinched. "No! It's—look. Circumstances are weird. Yeah, we're all stuck together in a weird group. Sure. But come on, 'Tex. You're a mech. A _Decepticon_. Not that I'm saying if you were an Autobot, it'd be okay. It still wouldn't be okay," he added quickly, waving his clawed hands. He sighed and looked away, exasperated. "Rachel's still a kid. I don't want her tryin' t' figure out how t' work with… this."

With a mech. An interspecies relationship. It was unnatural. Not… acceptable.

"You're stalling," Vortex accused, though he knew… he could _understand_ … what Jazz meant.

Jazz shot him a heated look. "And you're creepin' on my little girl. Back off."

That pissed Vortex off more than anything else. "I'm not creeping! I haven't even gone near her alone!" he exclaimed, enraged. He had been walking around, as Danny claimed, on "egg-shells" around Rachel. Whatever they were.

"I don't wanna talk about this," Jazz said shortly, waving his hand. "Not now."

"When, then, huh?" Vortex leaned closer, at the end of his patience, his sanity. "This is driving me insane. I want to talk to her. I want… to at least let her know what I feel. If she says no, fine, I'll get over it." It wouldn't be easy, but he'd try. "But I can't unless we make some sort of common ground."

Jazz didn't look at him, but his tone dipped down into icy levels. "I don't think that's a good idea." No room for debate.

Vortex growled. "I knew this bothered you, so I thought to come to you first." He hesitated and then braced his pride. " _Please_ … what can I do to let you let me talk to her?"

He didn't need permission. Not from a slagging _Autobot_. But he wanted to make this work, and to make it work without getting beaten to pit and back, he needed to get the approval of an Autobot (and Neutral; Thundercracker was a hurdle for another day, however).

Jazz didn't look at him for a while and Vortex sat back, emotionally torn. He wanted this to work. He didn't want to have to make enemies out of his allies, who were all still very new at the whole "ally" thing to start with. This was going to drive him insane, however; he just knew it.

Vortex, sighing, sat back. Maybe he had approached this too soon. He wasn't any good at relationships, even with teammates.

Jazz shifted, metal creaking in protest. Vortex turned and saw Jazz was just sitting there, but… he seemed more alert.

"…You really, really want me t' say yes, huh?" Jazz murmured, looking distant. But within his visor, Vortex saw something unsettling growing in Jazz's expression.

… _Oh, slag._ "Yes," Vortex replied slowly. He did not like that tone. Or that look.

Jazz sat back further, tapping his claws absently into the dirt. "Well… maybe I am bein' a bit too harsh. I mean, maybe it _could_ work." He paused, glancing over at Vortex with all-too-innocent optics. "But I don't wanna put my baby girl on th' line, ya know? That's kinda risky. Heck, both of ya could wind up hurtin' each other an' that ain't good for group morale." He paused again and grinned. "So…"

"So… what?" Vortex asked, fearing the answer at the same time as feeling anxiously curious.

Jazz met his optics pointedly. "Prove it. Prove t' me yer serious about bein' with Rachel."

Vortex stared. "… and… _how_ would I do that?" he asked, optics narrowing. That was far too vague to be reassuring.

"For a week, ya gotta do seven things t' prove yer a good match fer her. I'll think of stuff tonight." Jazz sighed, ignoring Vortex's mildly horrified face. "We've known each other fer years, 'Tex, and I know yer a good guy." Jazz smirked. "I just wanna be sure yer gonna be good enough fer our Rachel."

That did not bode well. Not at _ALL_. Vortex grimaced and looked away, considering. Jazz's request, as all of his requests were, ridiculous and random, but he had to admit; it was expected. Jazz would not make it easy for him, but Vortex had faith in his Autobot sentimentally. He just had to persevere through the tasks, which would probably all be stupid or embarrassing, but it was for a week. He could… handle a week.

Maybe.

"Fine," Vortex growled out, spark flaring with resentment and nervousness. Oh, Primus, this was going to be painful.

"You're dedicated, I can tell," Jazz said, smiling brightly. "Hopefully… fer both of ya… you actually mean it. I wish ya luck." Vortex couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"Thanks," he said quietly, looking away.

He was nervous… but strangely optimistic. He could do this. He had to. Smiling to himself behind his mask, Vortex suddenly had the first bit of hope he had since this whole mess started.

Maybe it was possible.

 **0000**

"You are horrible."

Jazz turned and saw Wheeljack standing there, several yards from the edge of the camp. Morning had come, just as it always did, and a new day was beginning. But today wasn't a normal day and Jazz was already anticipating quite an interesting ending. The rest of the week promised even more intrigue.

"Oh? Why's that, 'Jack?" he asked, glancing at the scientist. He grinned, knowing full well what he had meant.

Wheeljack, flustered, moved closer. He didn't want anyone else to hear their conversation. "I heard you last night. You and Vortex," he said, sounding grave. His optics narrowed, reprimanding. "Jazz, you're planning to toy with him."

"I'm givin' him a fair chance," Jazz protested, leaning away. He saw the humans packing their things, oblivious. Vortex kept shooting him stray looks, but was focusing on not getting caught looking, so he kept turning around. He was definitely not Special Ops material, Jazz mused.

"You and 'fair chance' don't go hand in hand when you're aggravated," Wheeljack replied, stern. He crossed his arms against his chestplates; Jazz wondered if Wheeljack knew so many human gestures because he wanted to help give them back to Danny growing up. It was possible. "You're mean-spirited about it."

Jazz shrugged, unimpressed. "I'm _givin'_ him a fair chance, 'Jack. It's all _anyone_ could offer, Primus."

"You're _playing_ with his emotions," Wheeljack complained. He actually sounded upset, glancing over at the group, at Vortex. "I've been watching this play out for a while, Jazz, and I honestly think he means what he says."

"What he says an' what he does are completely different," Jazz replied shortly. He watched as Rachel and Kass did the dishes and how Vortex was watching them. Thundercracker was also watching; Jazz had informed him of his little plan before the others had woken up.

"What could happen? Even _Wildrider_ knows to be gentle when handling the humans," Wheeljack countered. "Knowing Vortex's social incapacities, he wouldn't really be able to do anything but let Rachel know his feelings. Is that so wrong?"

"I don't want her t' be havin' t' worry about this kind of thing," Jazz replied, turning back to the taller mech.

"When will she ever find a companion other than us?" Wheeljack demanded, optics furrowing even more, pressing the limits of a mech's capacity to show emotion. "Jazz… I am worried as well, but perhaps we should just trust in _their_ judgment. They are the ones who will have to worry about the benefits or consequences of their actions. They are adults. They can carry themselves responsibly."

Jazz frowned, listening, but knowing it wasn't going to make him budge on his decision. He wasn't going to take a risk, not with Rachel. Thundercracker agreed with him. This… wasn't right. Not at all.

"Have ya ever heard of the Bible?" Jazz asked. Wheeljack flinched, clearly surprised by the turn of conversation. "I never got t' read the whole thing, but there was this one story I heard. This dude, Jacob, wanted t' marry a woman named Rachel. Her dad made Jacob do seven years of labor t' get her hand in marriage." Jazz glanced at the scientist, smirking. "I'm not th' only asshole dad out there, 'Jack."

Wheeljack straightened, a frown ever-present in his optics. "…I see." He sighed softly. "You do realize that Rachel's father in the story double crossed Jacob and made him work fourteen years instead, right?"

Touché. "I'm not out t' ruin his life, 'Jack," Jazz said, shaking his helm. He looked back at their group, reading himself. "Just… t' give him somethin' t' think about."

This would be hard, for both of them. Most likely, this would end horribly and many feelings would be smashed. This was for Vortex's own good, as much as it was for Rachel's.

So, yeah… he was going to make this hard.

 **0000**

 _Day One_

"You want me to do… _what_?"

Jazz pointed out at the field they were currently holding mid-day rest at. "Collect flowers," he instructed simply. "Twenty of 'em, and not all the same kind."

Vortex did all he could not to lash out at the impudent mech. "Why?" he demanded angrily. This was just humiliating!

Jazz, however, had other ideas. "You're interested in a five-foot, four-inch tall organic who could easily go squish if ya look at her the wrong way," he said sternly, as if reprimanding a sparkling. "If you think you can handle a relationship with her, you had better be pretty damn dexterous with yer hands. _And_ gentle."

Leave it to the saboteur to make sense out of something ridiculously STUPID. Vortex snarled, but could not find a reason to disagree. In fact, he somewhat agreed; if anything did come of the relationship, he'd probably be picking Rachel up more than normal. Gentle was a necessity.

But… _flowers_ ? !

"…Frag." Vortex clenched his fists, but knew there was no way to get out of this. "I… fine. _Fine_."

"Be nice and gentle," Jazz added, having the nerve to look positively gleeful. " _Whole_ flowers, 'Tex. Nothing squished."

The field they were resting in had flowers; it was a rare, rather beautiful sight. Compared to most of the landscape, the colors were startling. There were only pink and blue colored ones, with a few yellows. The humans had ogled at them earlier, but were focusing on getting their lunch done, leaving Vortex with a whole field of flowers to pick from alone.

Joy.

It was not easy. His fingertips were twice the size of many of the flowers and even the ones that were slightly larger, he couldn't always grab the stem easily. He had torn through several unfortunate plants. If he survived this with his sanity intact, Vortex swore after the seventh blue flower was obliterated, he would kill Jazz. Or at least beat the slag out of him.

And then, of _course_ , one of the humans walked up. "Hey, Vortex?" Slagslagslagslag.

"What?" he demanded. Glancing to the side, he saw it was Barnaby, looking up at him innocently. A smile was in his eyes, but there was more curiosity than anything else. Obviously, he didn't know what was going on.

"Why are you collecting flowers?" Barns asked, smiling hesitantly. He wasn't sure if it was a joke, apparently.

Vortex seethed. He was not about to let the fragging humans know what was going on. They would only make the situation worse, by over-sympathizing (and pissing Jazz off by confronting him on their own), or reacting negatively to his intentions. He had no idea if they could accept this relationship. He needed to handle one hurdle at a time; seeing what the humans thought could come later.

" _Jazz_ wanted some," he replied, optics narrowing. He managed to pick one of the yellow ones thankfully and it was remarkably intact. He took the grip measurements from his last action and decided to apply it to the next picking.

Barns nodded. "…Why?" he asked, curious.

Vortex growled. "I have no fragging idea."

"Why doesn't he just pick them?" Barns asked, leaning in closer. Vortex moved away, dropping his shadow onto the man.

"…I _volunteered_ ," Vortex replied tersely. He accidently tore the pink flower by the middle part. Frag.

Thank Primus, Barns was very skilled at realizing when Vortex was at the end of his patience. "I… see," he said. He paused. "Do you want some help?" _Or not._

"No." Vortex sighed when he managed to get a pink one intact. Thank Primus. "Go away."

Barns frowned, but eventually listened, walking back to the main group. Wildrider decided to cause more mayhem twenty-minutes later by throwing insults and teasing comments his way ("You look like sissy human! Vhere is dress for femme-Vortex? !"). Vortex, cursing Primus for every fragging flower he saw, slowly built up a collection of twenty flowers. He wanted to burn the whole field, but then the humans started to mess around in it, so he had to resign himself to just loathing all plant life for the next decade or so.

He found Jazz standing alone by the edge of the forest, smug, and Vortex restrained himself from punching the aft-head in the face. Instead, he dumped twenty flowers into Jazz's clawed hands.

"Here. Flowers. Twenty of them," he growled. He wanted to burn every single tree and flower and bush he could find.

Jazz gazed at the flowers, feigning interest. "Huh. Nice work, Vortex." He glanced up at him, smirking. "Day one and challenge one complete."

Vortex relaxed. Perhaps this wouldn't be too hard.

"Good luck for tomorrow, though," Jazz continued, grinning mercilessly. "I'm just getting warmed up."

Vortex grimaced. Or not.

Six more days. This was not going to be pleasant.

 **0000**

 _Day Three_

"Get to the left—behind you! _MOVE_ , DANNY!"

Chaos. Bloodshed. Metal flying in all direction. Just another unlucky moment in another ordinary day. Drones had come up from the south and it was a scramble to get into defensive and offensive positions. Jazz dodged a swipe from above and brought another drone down with a lucky grab. Metal and weak wiring crumpled under his claws, Jazz flung the monster away, readying himself for more violence. It had been such a peaceful week, too, outside of his and Vortex's endurance match. It was already three days into Jazz's trials for him, and much to the saboteur's surprise, the helicopter had succeeded in doing everything rather well, without a major complaint. It was becoming nerve-wracking now, actually; maybe he should start adding a time limit—

"RACHEL! TO YOUR RIGHT!"

Jazz looked up just in time from Kass's cry and saw what she meant. Rachel was doing her usual bait routine, but a stray drone, smacked loose from its general trajectory by a stray gun blast, was zooming right at her. Fear—paralyzing, helpless fear—grabbed Jazz's spark.

Before he even had the processing-power to run up to block the attack, Vortex launched downward from the air, where he had been giving them aerial support, and lashed out at the drone. Rachel shrieked and stumbled—Wheeljack asserted she couldn't _actually_ trip in the air, but one false body jerk and it was easy to tip over and lose altitude—falling. Vortex landed, catching her from the air, dropping down to set her on the ground seconds later.

Well. That wasn't as unexpected as Jazz really wanted it to be. Fuck.

Vortex crouched over the shocked human. "You okay?" he asked, not over-emotional, but there was concern in his voice.

Rachel was shaken by the close call, but she was always the tough one. "Y-yeah," she said, literally and psychologically brushing herself off. "Thanks, Vortex."

Vortex nodded. "It's nothing."

Jazz watched as the two separated. There was no revulsion in Rachel's countenance from Vortex's touch. She and the other humans always treated the mechs, especially the Decepticons, with as much respect and care as they did with their own kind. They did not see faction. Vortex turned away and got back to the fight. Jazz stood there for a moment, watching.

His optics did not miss the tiny smile that appeared on the human's lips once Vortex's back was turned.

Perhaps this was worse than he had expected.

 **0000**

 _One Week Later_

He had collected the twenty flowers ("Dexterity!"). He had hunted down a fragging deer using only one of the human's concussion blasters ("A man needs to provide for his beloved!"). The clothes washing ("Usefulness!"), the boulder throwing ("You know she likes strong guys."), the animal holding ("Ladies like cute animals. Here, hold this raccoon."), the book reading to a sickeningly-attentive Bluestreak ("You gotta be cultured, man. Rachel's a smart chick."), and had endured the gleefully compliant Wildrider's ramblings after both of them had to walk alone for a day... all… alone ("Humans like kids, so let's see if you can last babysitting one of ours.")—he had done it all. His pride was irrevocably damaged and he was pretty sure the humans thought he had gone insane, but he had completed his tasks as Jazz described. They were ridiculous, but did have some sort of logical explanation. Sort of. He had persevered, which was the most important part.

Unfortunately, as he had dreaded, Jazz was not very keen on the fact he had succeeded.

The light was fading to dusk once again. The humans had sat down to prepare their evening meals and soft conversation filtered throughout the camp. Vortex had left without his energon ration and instead went directly toward Jazz. Both the silver mech and Thundercracker had moved to the edge of the camp, away from the humans, waiting. Neither of them looked particularly happy, but Vortex didn't care. Jazz owed him something.

He stopped just short of Jazz, glancing back at Thundercracker who glared threateningly. "I finished the week," Vortex stated, directing all of his attention toward Jazz.

The saboteur frowned deeply. "Yeah. I guess you did." He did not sound happy.

Then, silence. Vortex waited, as patient as his nervous spark would allow, but Jazz just stood there, looking out at nothing. That was not a good sign.

"… _And_ , Autobot?" Vortex demanded, voice growing harder.

Jazz glared at him and refused to say anything else. He leaned away, gripping the tree trunk so fiercely, his claws cut through the fragile bark. Vortex glared back.

"Don't tell me the honorable Autobot goes back on his word," he snarled, daring to move closer. Thundercracker was only a few yards away, watching the whole thing go down, so Vortex restrained himself from grabbing Jazz by the arm. "You said—"

"You have no fragging idea how hard this is for me and TC," Jazz snapped, whirling around. He was just an Autobot, but his visor's glare was enough to make Vortex hesitate.

"All I want to do is talk to her!" he complained instead. He motioned towards the humans, who were just going on with their normal routine, as usual, oblivious. "You can't deny me that! You're just acting like a sparkling!"

Jazz hissed lowly, shrugging away. "Frag off. Let me think."

Vortex, at the end of his patience, dared to jab the Autobot with his finger, making him recoil a little. Thundercracker rumbled threateningly, but Vortex pressed on. "There is no reason for you to say no!" he exclaimed. It was true. There was nothing but feeble emotion driving these two now.

"No reason?" Jazz repeated, voice growing icier and more dangerous with each sound. " _Oh_ , I can think of _quite_ a few."

Vortex bared his teeth. "Enlighten me."

"You'd squish her," Jazz suddenly said, throwing his hands up.

Lame excuse. "I'm gentle with all of the humans," Vortex snarled, moving closer.

" _Vortex_." Jazz's tone was sharp. He leaned back looking straight up at the taller mech, fearless, determined. "Humans… are not like us. You don't understand, okay?" Jazz's optics flickered over toward the humans, body tense, voice ringing with authority. "They need… touch. Warmth. They want to hug, kiss, fondle, make love. They can't connect like we do. They can't read each other's minds. All they know, all they have, is _touch_."

A dark growl rose up in Vortex's chestplates. "For Primus' sake! What the frag do you think I'd do? Try to _fuck_ her ? !" he hissed, fists clenching. "Do you actually think I'm attracted to her physique? SHE'S ORGANIC!" Moving away, Vortex glared down at Jazz, shaking with anger and… "I'm not fragging _blind_ , you moron!"

"Then what _are_ you attracted to?" Jazz demanded, closing the distance between them, dominating.

"She—she does…" he began, but failed to finish.

Ah, what a question. What a problem. If Vortex knew the answer to that, this wouldn't have been so hard to begin with. He would know why he was putting his spark and honor on the line for a goddamn squishy. If he knew an answer, this whole fragging thing would make sense and not send his processors spinning out of control.

Vortex stared down at Jazz, his spark twisting, words coming from nowhere, his processors generating the answer before he even comprehended it.

"She doesn't _care_. About who I was. What I am. What I've… done." He latched onto his right hand with his left, trembling. "She should hate. Fear me. But she treats me no differently than you Autobots, or other humans."

A smile. A laugh. A feeling of light weighted carelessness. Even while running for their lives, she could find a reason to look his way, making sure, caring.

Appreciating an enemy.

"…She makes me laugh. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had something to feel happy over?" he demanded, but then stopped. He looked away in embarrassment, frustration. "We all know what that's like, but that doesn't change the fact… I have something to smile over. Me. _Vortex_."

Vortex never laughed. Or smiled. Even before he'd lost his brothers, even when he'd been a Decepticon and hadn't been living a backwards life amongst his former enemies, he had maintained a cold demeanor, his few emotions easily covered by his battlemask. But now… he couldn't help it, the way his spark filled up whenever she said something to him, joking, serious. There was a desire of want, yes, but…

This…

Like everything on this miserable planet…

This was totally different than anything he had ever experienced before.

"She's funny. And kind, but tough. If she were a femme, yeah… I'd feel the same," he continued, voice growing lower, losing his strength. "But she's not a femme and I fucking know that, Jazz. I know that nothing will come of this, physically or… emotionally. But I can't stop how I feel."

Which was true. It was truer than he ever wanted it to be. But there was no use hiding it now, or fighting it.

"She'd want more out of a relationship, that's what I'm saying. She wouldn't just want feelings," Jazz said. He was quieter now, looking strangely distant. Desperate.

"I…" Vortex began. He hesitated. "I _know_ that. That's why… I know nothing will come of it. I accept that. I just… need to… finish this. In whatever way. The sooner I hear a rejection, the sooner I can just… walk away from it."

Because their group comprised the only people, mech, femme or human, that they knew… they were all they had to care about. He didn't want to fuck up their group dynamic – but he was just as afraid as Jazz was that if he approached Rachel, he would ruin their unity, ruin everything.

But if he didn't approach her, all he would ever have was his one-sided feelings. He was tired to hiding it. Tired of… watching from afar. If she said no… he could accept it. Until then, he had nothing to accept. He just had half-sparked hopes and overwhelming worries.

They stood there in silence for a long time, watching the humans, dwelling on their turbulent emotions. Vortex was ready to just forget everything and go over to Rachel now, even if that meant having the two mechs behind him attack. The silence was beginning to drive him insane.

Jazz stood there, as still as a statue. "I don't like it," he said simply.

Vortex winced and looked away.

"But I'm not Rachel, am I?" Jazz said suddenly. Vortex started in surprise. "I'm worried. I'm concerned. I like you, don't get me wrong, Vortex. You're… not a bad guy." Slowly, Jazz turned away. "There's just… a lot to consider."

A bird flew by over head. Vortex stood there, spark heavy.

"But I'm not Rachel."

Vortex paused and turned, looking at the smaller mech. Jazz refused to look back at him, glaring out at nothing.

"This is going to, in the end, have to be brought up. I know that. I don't like it. But she's th' one who gets t' decide fer herself." Jazz paused, looking almost ill. "She's a grown woman. Bein' th' mother hen all th' time is just… silly at this point." Sighing heavily, Jazz shook his helm. "Whatever happens next is gonna have t' be between you two."

Vortex didn't know what to say, if there was anything else to say. He stared down at Jazz silently. "…I guess I wanted your approval," he finally managed to say at great length.

Jazz shrugged, still not looking at him. "…Ya have it," he said. "Well, my approval for talkin' t' her. I don't approve of th' relationship itself." Jazz made a sighing sound again. "But… things could change, like I said before. Maybe we're all just overreactin' 'cause this sort of thing is new." Finally, after what seemed like forever, a tiny smile appeared on his face. "Maybe… it might work out."

Vortex stared in disbelief. "…Thank you," he said lowly, meaning it.

Ha. Since when did an Autobot's approval mean anything to him? Vortex had to laugh at himself; this miserable world had brought him down to unspeakable levels.

"Don't yet," Jazz warned, frowning gravely again. "You gotta wait t' hear what she says."

"When do you think I should bring it up?" Vortex asked, now suddenly excited. Maybe—maybe he _could_ do this. Maybe he did have a chance at—

Suddenly, the overwhelming feeling of Don't Look Behind You swept through Vortex's spark. He froze, knowing full well that Thundercracker had just stood up behind him, looming with all his height.

"Who said you could ask her now?" Thundercracker growled, optics narrowing ever-so-slowly. "You have Jazz's approval. You never got _mine_."

Vortex felt part of his spark whimper and die, and Jazz's hysterical laughter did not help. Not. In. The. Least.

 **0000**

"What the _hell_ is Jazz doing to Vortex now?"

Rachel sighed as Kass handed her a mug of hot coffee. "They've been messing with him all week," she replied, frowning over at the two mechs in question. Thundercracker was equally guilty, with him just standing there… menacingly.

Kass snorted and sat down next to her friend. "They're so mean to him," she complained. "I mean, he can be mean, too, but this is just abusive now. What are they talking about, you figure?"

"Oh, definitely me," Rachel sighed, chin resting on her hand. She scowled. "I swear to God, they are the biggest psychos when it comes to me meeting people. This one time, at a camp, I got propositioned by this fourteen year old. You'd have thought TC was gonna shoot him, and Jazz was _supportive_ about TC doing so."

"Oh, dear." Kass giggled nervously as Vortex and Jazz separated, Vortex looking dejected. Danny was over by Wheeljack, motioning helicopter over. "You may want to talk to them about being less, ah, protective. Poor Vortex looks so miserable."

"Jazz and TC don't listen to me," Rachel complained. She did look a little guilty, however, gazing after Vortex. "…You think he really does like me? I thought 'Jack said these guys were asexual."

"Maybe for them that means, 'I can love anything'?" Kass suggested, shrugging.

Rachel scowled again. "Great. So it's like he's in love with a tree branch. Lovely."

"Can you pleeeease stop talking about this?" Barns suddenly pleaded, glaring at them from his pillow. "I have enough nightmares."

Kass and Rachel laughed. "This is a serious situation," Kass reprimanded, giggling. "Social dramas need to be handled!"

"Handle them where I don't need to envision robots and humans—!"

Rachel shook her coffee cup at him threateningly. "Barns, I swear, if you finish that sentence, I will beat the _shit_ out of you," she warned. Kass only laughed harder.

Meanwhile, as the three humans laughed, Bluestreak walked up to their smaller section of the group and peered down, curiosity blooming on his face. Kass noticed him first and smiled at him.

"What's wrong, Blue?" she asked.

Bluestreak looked confused. "…You guys knew?" he asked, shocked. He had been under the impression Jazz and TC didn't want Rachel (or any of the humans for that matter) to be involved with the problem of handling Vortex.

Rachel and Kass looked at each other and then back at the surprised mech. "Blue," Kass began, smiling tiredly, "yeah, we knew."

"How?" he asked. He certainly hadn't said anything.

"We're girls," both replied automatically, not even blinking.

The gunner paused. "…And?"

Rachel sighed heavily and waved at him absently. "Trust me, Bluestreak, women just have a way of knowing," she replied casually.

"Oh." Bluestreak tilted his head, frowning. "I don't get it."

"Me neither, but drop it, Blue, thinking about it won't help," Barns suddenly said, voice muffled by the pillow he had his face buried in.

Bluestreak didn't really understand why that was so funny as the girls laughed, and he certainly didn't understand how being female gave the girls the power to read mechs' minds, but he decided it was a human thing. Because human things rarely ever made sense.

 **0000**

 _Across the Camp_

"Wheeljack—"

"No, I am not helping you win over TC, Vortex."

"Slaggit."

 

 **End**   
_  
**Formal.**   
_

_  
**Next**   
_   
**: The kids and their first experiences with… "talking cars." From a human perspective, that is.**


	22. View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

Barns was good at communicating with people. He had learned how to deal with strangers, both kindly and rude, from his grandparents. He prided himself on being good at speaking and making friends or at least acquaintances. What had always been a mildly embarrassing moment in his friend-making career, however, was his first encounter with the Transformers. He was a people-person, he was sure. But… things were a little different.

It was not a person. It was a robot. A talking, sentient robot with feelings and a wonderfully powerful mind.

…But it was a _robot_.

Barns had no words to describe his utter shock and initial terror when he met his first giant, alien robot. Vortex had come out of nowhere (and for a two story robot with giant canons for hands, that was a remarkable feat). It towered over them, even after the cannibal humans had fled, and Barns had felt very much like a David facing an alien Goliath.

"What is it?" Barns had asked Goddard, eyes flickering back to the giant.

"It's a Transformer," Goddard had said roughly. "An alien."

Alien generally had just meant 'drone' but everyone knew there were different kinds. He had expected, much like the majority of the people they had encountered before, that all of the sentient aliens had either died or had fled the planet. Running into one… that was… mindboggling.

It was equally startling to stand there below one. Vortex had just stood there, watching, the language barrier barring it from being able to understand or be understood. Barns couldn't help but stare. It had legs, a torso, a waist, arms, even a neck—a head that sported strange, glowing eyes. They were haunting eyes.

It looked like a machine. Barns could only tell the mech had thoughts and feelings by the subtle body language it was able to produce. The face was unreadable. It had a mask that covered the lower part of his face ( _Did it even have a mouth? And for what purpose; what did it eat, if anything?_ ) and its' optics were just glass circles that sometimes retracted or expanded.

When Vortex decided to follow them, Barns laughed nervously, mostly because he was grateful his savior had decided to follow along—but also because the sound nearly scared him more than the cannibals had. It was a loud, unnatural sound. Clanking, whirling, hissing—the forest had been ruined by those sounds. It took Barns two days to remember not to flinch. The alien had stopped when they stopped and moved when they moved, but preferred to stand several yards away. It was like they were being followed by a giant metal child, who didn't know how to speak or to understand spoken word.

…and who made a symphonic racket when he moved more than an inch.

It took them a long time to come up with the name "Vortex" - so long that Barns had accepted that he was more than an "it". The sounds the mech made when he talked in his native language— _oh_ , what a noise that was—were nothing like English or French. The only thing the mech knew how to say was "wind" or "great wind." He probably knew bits of other words, but those weren't related to his name, apparently. Barns tried everything, eventually getting Goddard to help. Either because they finally came close enough to his real name or because he was tired of them throwing words at him, the mech decided to nod when they suggested his current designation - Vortex. Barns had hopes of teaching him more of English, but then they met the others on the road.

If one giant robot was mind-boggling, being surrounded by four of them was enough to make him feel the need to hyperventilate. Two of them were even larger than Vortex was. Thundercracker had wings, giant wings, that seemed entirely inflexible, so how he moved through the forest was a mystery for a while. He was just quite flexible with his limbs. Wheeljack was also very, very tall, and seemed too massive to move so easily. Danny, who he had mistaken for being much younger at the time due to her size, fearlessly hung to his leg or walked by his side as they moved. How she could spend so much time next to those hulky, clumsy-looking feet, Barns couldn't fathom.

"What are you staring at?" Thundercracker asked, finally, after almost a week of Barns ogling up at the mechs. His neck had begun to hurt from staring upwards. The humans had to stand several yards away from them to just be able to see their faces while talking to them. Danny seemed perfectly okay talking straight up and Rachel avoided it all together by not looking them in the face while she spoke. For her, a leg was as good as a face.

"You… are startling," he admitted, knowing it was always better to be honest when it came to the mechs.

Wildrider cackled. "Scary, yes?" he asked, gleeful. As if that were a good thing.

"No…" Barns replied, again honest. He was not afraid as much as always in awe. "You are just so different from us."

And then Jazz tripped over a log. Perhaps not so different. Wildrider burst into hysterical laughter again and Thundercracker growled lowly, muttering about idiocy. Jazz rolled it off—such a fluid movement for such a bulky creature—and had the nerve to bow, clearly having done it on purpose for amusement sake. That only made Thundercracker angrier and the others laugh harder. Even Vortex chuckled.

As much as they were physically inhuman… Barns had to smile. They were quite human on the inside.

Or was it that he was so much like _them_?

After several years, he didn't mind looking up. He barely heard the clanging, the whirling, the hissing—

When optic met eye, he didn't think anything of it. It was just the way things were.

**0000**

Rain was disgusting and horrid. Snow was worse, but rain definitely made Rachel's life more miserable than she felt it should generally be. Before, rain could be dangerous. She could catch a cold and die if she was caught out in bad weather. Before, jumping camps had been risky. Hell, even living in one was risky if it were out in the open and exposed to the weather.

Luckily, that had been before. Things were a little different after meeting Jazz and Thundercracker.

She'd thought they were peculiar but, ultimately, no different from any of the humans she had met. They were giant, metal aliens… scary even, but they looked human in shape, and they had human mannerisms. They were so human-like that she expected them to act like all the humans she'd ever met and ditch her the first time she slowed them down or got into any trouble.

Two weeks later, when nature decided to unleash unholy torment from the dark clouds above them, she expected the worst. Rachel froze on the path as the first droplet struck her skin. She shuddered, repulsed. She hated the sensation, the _wetness_ , the _dampness_. It was disgusting.

Jazz noticed that she had stopped. "What's wrong, Rachel?" he asked, turning to face her. He was only a few yards ahead of her now, so she had to tilt her head up. So inconvenient.

"It's… raining," Rachel managed to say, grimacing as each raindrop splattered over her arms. She hadn't been able to find a useable sweater in the last camp. Her old one had been ripped after running though the woods during the attack… before the two had found her.

Thundercracker, who generally walked in front of them (she suspected he was annoyed by her slower pace), had stopped now and was giving her a lukewarm glare. Then again, it might not have been a glare. His range of emotions varied from dislike to loathing.

"So?" the larger alien demanded. His voice gave very few clues about his feelings either.

Rachel, swallowing, bravely looked up at the robot. "I don't suppose you guys have any extra supplies for people, do you?" she asked, glancing around nervously. No trees around them had leaves. Maybe if she found a whole bush, she could make an impromptu shelter…

"Why? It's just water…" Jazz began, but then he trailed off suddenly, considering. There was a pause. "Oh… wait."

Rachel decided to help him along anyway. "It's cold and I don't have a sweater or anything. I'll get sick if I get wet and cold," she said bluntly, glaring. It was freezing now.

Jazz looked positively horrified. "Slag! I forgot!" he exclaimed. He crouched, sounding apologetic. "Geeeeez, sorry, kiddo, I forgot about that. Been so long since I hung around humans, ya know? Well, shit, there's not much cover around here."

"No…" Rachel looked around, eyes seeking out anything that might be able to help. "Maybe… maybe we'll find a cave or something nearby?"

"Nah, we should probably keep goin'," Jazz replied, glancing back at Thundercracker. "Hold up."

Rachel faced him, irritated at first, thinking he meant that she should just suffer through the elements. She could understand that she'd be slowing them up considerably by lingering under cover, but what could she do? She knew that the next step was for her to complain about her own concerns and then for them to part ways. She was gearing up for the shouting match…

…when he abruptly keeled over.

Or more specifically, he suddenly _bent in half_.

Rachel gasped and took two large steps backward, staring at the sight before her in fear and utter shock. She had never seen Jazz or Thundercracker do anything but walk and talk. There had been no special alien moves or weird robot actions. In fact, the lack of those qualities almost made her forget she was talking to giant robots. Almost. The sounds and sights were difficult to ignore, but this—

"Holy _fuck_!" she yelped, as the bending and twisting continued. It had looked like Jazz's head had folded straight into his chest, which then twisted around, folded downward and then everything else followed. It looked horribly painful and disgusting.

It didn't just stop there. It kept going, the bending and twisting. Suddenly, the robot man was gone and it was just a robot _mess_. The noise was way worse than before, the absence of wildlife and other people causing every noise the machine-aliens made to sound extra loud. Finally, the noise dissipated and Rachel was left staring at not-a-robot… but a car.

A silver, slightly-scratched up tiny _car_.

… _WHAT._

"Come on, get in," Jazz's voice said, oh-so-cheerfully from the front of the car as one of the doors popped open. Or at least, she thought it was from the car. She was too busy gaping at the vehicle-alien-monster-thing to be completely sure.

"Y-you—what was that?" she sputtered, gawking. Since when did aliens turn into cars? Thundercracker stood there, waiting, and said nothing.

Jazz paused. "Uh… I _transformed_ ," he said, sounding almost like he wanted to laugh. "We're called th' _Transformers_ fer a reason, Rachel." He had the nerve to sound amused.

"But—!" Rachel tried to say, but couldn't find the right words. "What the fuck!"

Jazz's laugh came from the car and the whole vehicle seemed to move. "Haha, I know, must look weird," he said, chuckling.

"Weird?" Rachel blurted; 'weird' didn't begin to cover it. "Christ—what the hell…" She stared at the car in disbelief. She couldn't imagine how this was possible. It was like… like a giant robot turtle.

"Ya never heard about what we could do?" Jazz asked, sounding curious. His car door stayed open even as the rain increased.

Rachel tried to remember. "I… heard stories." There were always rumors about what the thought-to-be-dead aliens could do. Turning into another form had been a theory, but she had never expected it to be like this. "I thought… I don't know what I thought." Rachel gripped her head, shaken. "What the hell, man. How did you do that?"

She looked at Thundercracker to see if he was going to explain, but he just shrugged. Jazz laughed again, gaining her attention. "I can explain th' schematics of transformation all day long," he said cheerfully. "Get in, yer gettin' soaked."

Rachel stared at the talking car and did not feel particularly inclined to obey its cheerful command. It didn't feel right to approach him like that, to… _sit_ inside of him? That was so… so…

Another stray raindrop hit her on the forehead. She gritted her teeth.

"…you sure?" she asked, eyeing the car as warily as she would eye a wild animal. She didn't want to imagine that this car had once been on two feet.

Jazz's voice did not help the bizarre-ness of the situation as it emanated from the exterior of the car. "Yup! Won't bother me any," he said brightly, too brightly for a _car_. "You probably weigh next t' nothin'. Climb on board th' Jazz Limo Service."

The suggestive tone and overall excited nature of the alien did not help. At. All. "…You are so weird…" Rachel finally muttered, stepping closer. The door was open on the passenger side. She stared at the black seat. It looked…comfy.

For a robot-from-space-car.

Rachel couldn't stand the cold any more. She took a deep breath and slid into the seat. She exhaled only after she had sat back in the seat. The door shut by itself, startling her, but she had to reason that if the car was really Jazz… he could probably move everything inside it. Maybe. Unless it was like his organs. She couldn't move her intestines with her mind. That'd be too weird. Then again, Jazz was weird and so was this whole situation. Nothing was too weird anymore.

She had never been in a car before. They were useless now, without gas or maintenance. Not to mention they attracted the drones quicker than if you were on foot. It was comfortable though. Her feet had long been toughened up with calluses, but walking all day did have its downside. If she wasn't so concerned with them getting picked off by nearby drones, she would have asked to ride like this all the time… maybe.

…But this wasn't a car.

_Holy fuck, I'm sitting inside someone's… chest? Stomach? What the hell would this be?_

"You're just going to drive?" she asked, trying to distract herself. She pulled her legs up and tried to stay warm. It was weird; when it wasn't raining on her skin, she felt colder.

Jazz replied with the start of his engine and they began to roll forward, bumping on the uneven ground. Thundercracker was walking further ahead now; she could hear his massive footsteps shaking the ground. "For a bit," Jazz suddenly interjected. "When it gets darker, we'll make camp. If it's still raining, you can sleep in here."

She nodded. "Okay." She could last for a little while, she figured; she imagined it was going to get awkward very soon.

"You comfortable, kiddo? I can turn up the heat," Jazz said. Suddenly, freezing air slammed into Rachel's head. She gasped and the air stopped. Jazz laughed nervously. "Oops, that was the air, sorry. Haven't had to do this for more than a few decades. Here we go."

Instantly, warm air was blowing through the vents in the front of the car. Rachel stared, amazed. She had been shivering before, but the heat was an amazing comfort. Was this really how humans had lived before? Lucky bastards.

"Thanks…" she murmured, glancing around. Everything looked so weird. She tried to put names to the different parts of the interior, but some just didn't compute.

"So, is this your first time in a car?" Jazz asked suddenly. His wheels and engine made up for a lot of the silence that generally fell between the three of them. Rachel didn't mind it though; it made great background noise.

Rachel nodded, distracted. "Yeah. It's… nice." It beat walking, that was for sure. She doubted this would be a frequent thing. She kinda hoped it wouldn't.

Jazz was still thoroughly upbeat. "Ha! Thanks. If only TC had more energon, I swear, you'd be beggin' him t' fly you around," he said, laughing.

"Um… sure," Rachel said, trying to refocus on his voice. She didn't know where to look. "What does he turn into?" A bigger car?

"The wings are a hint," he replied, teasing.

Rachel frowned. "Oh… a plane?" That was sort of obvious, she chided herself.

"A jet," Jazz corrected brightly. She assumed that was a fancy kind of plane then. "That's how he got us over to Europe, after all."

That did successfully make Rachel stop looking around. "…He flew you over?" she asked, trying to get her mind over two giant robots flying over the ocean. _Must not laugh, must not laugh…_

"It was an awesome fourteen hours let me tell you," Jazz said, entirely honest and yet ambiguous. It must have been quite the story. "Have I ever told you how we met?"

"No…" Rachel said, dreading and yet feeling excited over it. It had to have been a weird first meeting, because the two were such total opposites in everything else.

"Well, now that you're sitting down, you can listen!" Jazz said, cheerful, even as the rain poured down upon him. Thundercracker was almost invisible in the sheets of rain. "Let's see, I guess it was about five years ago now. I had been over in the United States and…"

He kept talking and Rachel found herself listening, both interested and disturbed. The voice of Jazz kept emanating from all over the inside the car. Rachel glanced in the backseat (which didn't seem very large for seats in her opinion) and to the other side of the front. It seemed to have a basic car-like interior. The only weird thing was that, well, the car was alive and not a car.

"…ever see pictures of Georgia?" Jazz asked suddenly. Rachel started.

"Uh… no… I, uh…" she began to say and then she stopped.

She was starting to become used to Jazz, and all of his eccentricities. Sure, he could surprise her with his attitude, but she was rapidly adapting to his personality. The same could be said of Thundercracker, but not to the same extent. She thought that she'd figured them out, that they wouldn't surprise her much.

But now? Rachel gaped at the front of the car as she realized something quite… stunning.

She didn't know where to talk to.

…Oh, God.

A giggle escaped her throat before she could stop herself. Jazz's engines literally stopped and a dreadful silence filled the interior of the vehicle. Rachel thought, perhaps, she should have been embarrassed. She gripped her leg, trying not to laugh.

"What was that?" Jazz asked finally, a laugh in his own voice. Rachel's eyes darted all over the place. The dashboard seemed like a good idea, but the voice was coming from the radio.

"Uh…" Rachel coughed. She looked out at the window. The sky was darkening, so she hoped they'd be stopping soon. If only it wasn't raining…!

"You definitely just laughed," Jazz accused, a strangely excited tone to his voice. He kept prodding. "What's so funny?"

Rachel bit her lip, trying not to smile. This wasn't funny, not at all. _Holy shit—where is his face? !_

Hot air blasted from a heater to her left, making her yell in surprise. "What's so funny?" Jazz demanded.

Rachel burst out laughing. She couldn't help it.

"What is it?" Jazz asked, laughing as well. Why he was getting so excited over this, she didn't know. If anything, she thought it would bother him.

"Where is your face?" she shrieked, giggling. She batted at the air vent. "Quit it!"

Jazz stopped, probably from his own surprise than her demand. "My face? What do you mean?" he asked, sounding positively gleeful.

"I don't know where to talk to you!" Rachel exclaimed, trying to stop laughing. "Goddamn, this is so weird!"

Jazz laughed loudly. "Ah. I gotcha." He paused, probably thinking of a way to reply. "Well, th' entirety of th' car _is_ me."

"I know that. That's the freaky part," Rachel replied, shaking her head. Laughing felt so weird now, of all times and places, but it was pretty funny, in an absurd way.

"Hmmm. I guess my radio would do. Kinda like my mouth," Jazz said thoughtfully. He laughed. "Though t' be honest, I don't think ya need t' worry about lookin' us in the face, Rachel. It wouldn't be fair, since we're so much taller.

 _That_ was a relief. "Ha… fine." She sighed, rubbing her face. "Jeez, this is so weird."

Jazz was entirely too happy about it. "Hey, if it gets ya t' laugh, I can be weirder!" he exclaimed. He paused and then Rachel could have sworn the car drooped. "Aww, the radio's gone, I forgot. Hmm. I got old songs we can listen to!"

Why he was so insistent on getting her to laugh, or to be friends… Rachel couldn't help but sigh and smile, looking out the window.

"Don't waste energy… whatever it is you guys call it," she said, remembering it was a common ailment for them to waste energy on smaller things. Radio seemed to be one for them. Their food was surprisingly more difficult to find than hers.

"Energon. You're right… but I don't mind." Jazz's grin was permeable through the interior of the car. She could almost see the gesture. "Ya look good with a smile, Rachel." He said it so honestly, she almost believed it.

Rachel stared at the dashboard, suddenly uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't know what to say to that.

Instead, she glanced out the window. It was almost pitch black out.

"Should we stop now?" she asked, trying to get rid of the nervous feeling in her gut.

Jazz went silent and Thundercracker stopped ahead (or at least she assumed he had.) Rachel blinked; they must have been talking through their "comm. links." She assumed it was like a radio.

"TC says sure!" Jazz suddenly blurted. "Ya can recline the seat fer sleeping." The seat next to her moved up and down to demonstrate. She jumped at the movement, but at least he hadn't done that to her while she was sitting in the other chair, she realized.

"…You sure?" she asked, shifting awkwardly in the seat. She hated that she felt like a freeloader. Then again, Jazz was very much not like her.

"Yup!" the alien said enthusiastically. "If ya got the means t' help someone, I say, help 'em."

Rachel stared at the dashboard; the ill feeling of discomfort intensified. "…You keep making me think you're just like me," she said quietly, resting her head on the window. "And then I realize you're not."

_Because these aliens were a lot of things, but not cowards, who would ditch someone in need. Unlike me._

"What makes you say that?" Jazz asked, surprised.

Rachel looked away, smiling to herself. "Never mind."

Jazz let her curl up on his seat for the rest of the evening (after a meager dinner of canned meat from her supply bag) and didn't say a word. She was grateful; knowing he was so close to her was nerve-wracking. Getting to sleep was harder—but yet, not much harder than sleeping outside on the cold ground. It was warm and dry; it was—

 _Safe_.

Rachel closed her eyes, mentally scoffing at herself. To think, she was safer inside of an alien than with her own kind…

What a world.

Rachel knew it couldn't get much weirder after that. She slept through the night, awoke alive and warmer than she had in a long time, and was greeted by the faceless voice she had grown used to. Not entirely used to, but she was getting there. She didn't know how to feel about that.

"Thanks, Jazz," she said, exiting the car when they decided to get up and going. It was damp outside, but she didn't want to overstay her welcome.

Jazz chuckled and then turned back into a robot. Rachel took several steps back, in awe. It wasn't as startling however, now that she knew it was coming. "Not a problem, kiddo," Jazz replied once he had once again become a robot. He grinned down at her and pointed over her shoulder. "Turn around and take a look at a jet real quick."

Rachel turned, not knowing what to expect. Her jaw dropped down again when she saw what he had meant. She had only seen planes in pictures or posters, but she recognized it right away. Thundercracker, apparently, had transformed as well, turning into a giant plane, or a jet. She had never seen such a solid metal contraption that was still intact before.

"Wow…" Rachel breathed, eyes huge.

Jazz stepped up behind her, gears whirling. "Whenever we get pinned down by weather, we transform to make it more bearable," he explained. He nodded at the suspiciously quiet jet. "Pretty big, ain't he?"

"Yeah…" Rachel murmured. She stepped closer to the larger alien, who seemed so still, and tried to imagine how it was all possible.

Even if they were a little strange, they did act reasonably human. They knew kindness… they were perhaps kinder than people most times. She was new to their physical and cultural worlds, but maybe they weren't so weird, she reasoned thoughtfully.

And then twenty-something tons of alien robot transformed and _stood up_.

"—SHIT!"

Nearly ten years later, Rachel still found herself gawking at their transformations. Some things, no matter how common, just stayed _weird_.

**0000**

Her name was Danielle Elizabeth, but she preferred Danny, because Elizabeth was a difficult name to say. Also, it sounded nicer. Danielle made her think of scarves. She didn't like scarves very much. Wheeljack only called her Danny once, but she liked it so much, she called herself that afterwards. She didn't really think he liked that.

She was six years old and five months. She was a big girl, Wheeljack told her, but she was very, very tiny compared to him. Everything was tiny compared to him, though.

Wheeljack was big. Bigger than the trees sometimes. But Danny knew what a tree was compared to Wheeljack—Wheeljack was a mech. And she, being smaller, was a human.

There were more humans now though, all bigger than her, but smaller than Wheeljack. There were a lot of them; she didn't know where they had come from, but Wheeljack wasn't afraid, so she wasn't either. They ran into other humans sometimes on the roads or forests.

"Greetings," Wheeljack said as soon as the group of humans showed up. Danny, hiding behind Wheeljack's leg, watched the new beings carefully.

They were just like Danny, only bigger than she was, but still much smaller than Wheeljack. The humans hadn't wanted to get close when they saw Wheeljack, but their leader, a pretty human with long black hair ventured closer. Danny liked her; she was braver than her friends.

The human smiled down at Danny, pleased by something. "What a pretty little girl…" She straightened and gave Wheeljack a strained look. " _Est-ce qu'elle est la vôtre_?" Danny frowned; she didn't understand why some people spoke weird words and others spoke normal ones.

Wheeljack shook his head, crouching now. He didn't like being big when others were so tiny. " _Non, elle est un orphelin. Je l'ai sauvée. Sa nom est Danielle_ ," he replied. He was so smart, he knew how to speak to the strangers. He guided Danny up to meet the new people. They couldn't communicate well, but Danny smiled and nodded. If Wheeljack would say hello, so would she.

The adults kept talking. There weren't any children with the group, so she was left alone. She was grateful. She wouldn't have been able to talk to the other children very well anyway. She hung on to Wheeljack and tried to ignore the weird looks they kept giving her when they weren't talking in their not-normal language. Standing there, Danny couldn't help but stare back.

She had seen humans before. There were lots of them, though Wheeljack said there weren't a lot at all. They saw them often, in cities or in city-like things Wheeljack called camps. Some of them could speak normally, but most couldn't. Wheeljack had to translate a lot for Danny.

It was strange, whenever she looked at a human. She forgot she was soft, sometimes, when Wheeljack was metal and shiny. She looked nothing like him, though sometimes, she wanted to believe the reflections in water or glass were lying to her. Lies were bad, but she didn't like the weird feeling that crept up in her stomach whenever she had to look at her human face and then look back at Wheeljack. His was the only face she had seen, until he showed her a pool of water and she saw herself. It was… weird.

She could see how different they were by just looking at the new humans. They had hair, which Wheeljack did not, and they didn't make noise when they walked. Danny hated how quiet she was, so she tried to make lots of noise by stomping on leaves and branches, at least until Wheeljack told her to stop. These humans were just as quiet. Their eyes didn't glow and they had to wear _clothes_. Danny hated clothes. She wondered if they didn't like clothing either. If it weren't for coldness, she would have to question why anyone would bother with the things.

Danny immediately refocused on Wheeljack when, out of no where, he stopped talking. She rarely ever, ever saw him get upset, but he looked like he was as he looked down on the leader-human. It wasn't like the upset look he got when Danny strayed too far or when the drones attacked. It looked like he was… she didn't know. It wasn't fear. What concerned Danny the most was that when they were talking—pretty loudly and faster than normal—they kept looking at her. Danny sank back behind Wheeljack's leg, uncomfortable to be the center of attention. She wanted them to leave.

The leader-human suddenly stopped talking fast and smiled at her. Her expressions were right on her face, like Danny's, unlike Wheeljack. "She is a good girl," she said, staring right at Danny. She crouched and held out her hand toward Danny. "Would you like to come with us? We are human, like you. We are your kind."

Danny stared at the hand and didn't know what to say to that. She looked up at Wheeljack for an explanation. What did that even… mean?

Wheeljack stared down at her, looking very, very upset. He did not say anything, however. He waited for Danny to say something.

"Can we go?" Danny asked, gripping onto Wheeljack's leg. She whispered it, because Wheeljack taught her manners and it was rude to think other people were weird. But these humans were beginning to really make her nervous.

The human-leader frowned and seemed disappointed. Wheeljack, though, seemed to shrink back and the dark look in his optics disappeared. They crinkled, like when he smiled, so Danny smiled back.

Words she didn't understand were exchanged again and the humans picked up their things, looking at her with looks she couldn't understand. They almost looked sad. She didn't know why they would be; she didn't even know them.

Wheeljack and Danny began to walk the other way, the sounds of the humans growing fainter and fainter until they were all alone again. Danny sighed, feeling relieved. She didn't know why, but meeting wandering humans or being forced to go into camps always made her nervous.

"What did they want?" she asked after a while. Wheeljack still looked upset, so she let him pick her up. She didn't like riding in his hands all the time; she liked walking.

"Oh, they were just exchanging news… information," Wheeljack explained, earfins flashing. She barely noticed them, however. "They were curious as to why you and I are traveling together."

Danny made a face. "Why?"

"We make a strange pair, Danielle," Wheeljack said, chuckling. Danny didn't know what was so funny.

"Why?" she asked again.

Wheeljack looked down at her in his hands, a smile in his optics. "You are a human and I am a Transformer. Transformers and humans do not typically travel together," he explained. Danny could see the sense in that; she had never seen another Transformer besides Wheeljack. "Also, you are quite young to be separate from other humans."

"That's silly," she said firmly, frowning. "You found me alone, so that's why I'm with you." She knew her parents were dead— _sleeping forever_ —and Wheeljack had saved her.

"Exactly," Wheeljack said. The smile went away from his face and suddenly, he looked vaguely sad again. Danny frowned, not liking that. "The woman was concerned about your well-being, so that is why she offered to take you with them."

Danny honestly didn't know what to say to that. "…Oh." She bit her lip and pulled at her scarf absently. "What'ssa girl?"

"It's what you are, Danielle," Wheeljack replied.

"I thought I was a hu-man."

Wheeljack tilted his head. "You are. A girl is a female human."

Danny looked up at him, thinking. "What'ssa fe… female?" she asked, stumbling over the word.

She didn't quite understand why Wheeljack looked upset for a moment and then just went back to looking tired. "…Oh, dear." He sighed heavily. "I was hoping to avoid some of these conversations until you were older, but I suppose you deserve answers when you ask the questions." He looked back at her, probably thinking about what to say first. "There are male humans and female humans. A male human is a man or a boy. A boy is a young human male. A female human is a woman or a girl. You're a girl right now, because you're very young compared to those other humans we met."

Danny didn't quite understand it all, but Wheeljack said a lot of things that confused her. She'd get it eventually. "Oh… but…" she trailed off, thinking back to the humans. "Why are they so small?"

"What do you mean?" Wheeljack asked, surprised.

"You're huge. Bigger than—than the trees," Danny said, motioning with her arms. "They don't got, um, your height."

Danny didn't get words right sometimes. "They don't _have_ , Danielle," Wheeljack correcting her patiently. "Of course they don't. They're human."

"So… they're two things?" Danny asked, squinting her eyes at the strange words. "A-and… what… what's a mech?"

"Mechs are Transformers," Wheeljack explained, pointing at himself and then at her respectively as he spoke. "There are Transformers and then there are humans. They are different species. We, me and you, are different species."

Yet another strange word. "What's a species?"

Wheeljack sighed and stopped to think. "You know how there are squirrels and then there are rabbits?" he asked after a second or two.

"Yeah…" Danny said, frowning.

"It's like that," he replied. "We are not the same animal."

"Oh…" Danny hesitated. "But… they're… they kinda look like you." Only squishy and small and not metal…

…Like her.

Wheeljack rumbled. "Rabbits?" he questioned. There was a twinkling in his optics; he was teasing again. She loved it when he teased.

"No!" she sputtered, giggling. "Hu-mans. And me. And… and 'cause we have legs and arms too." She looked over his shoulder toward where the humans had left, as if she could spot them from there. Wheeljack was pretty tall, after all. "They looked like us."

"They look like you, Danny," Wheeljack said, chuckling.

Danny shook her head. "No, they looked like us. You gots legs and arms and a head and eyes, too," she said, pointing at her face. "They don't got a mask though."

"No, they don't," Wheeljack conceded. He paused and then looked upset again, making Danny feel bad too. He turned back to her, looking nervous. "Danny, I am your guardian, but I am not the same species as you. I love you very much, as my own child, but you are not by nature one of my kind. You are a human being, born from human beings." He sighed and cupped her toward himself with his hand more. "It is very confusing right now, I know… and I am sorry I can't always give you what humans could give you. It's not fair for you… and I understand if you ever wish to leave to go with you own kind—"

A feeling she would later know as horror flooded her chest. "NO!" she screamed. She flew at the edge of his hand and wrapped her body around his finger. "I don't wanna leave you! You're my daddy!" she cried, frantic. "Don't make me go with them!" They were tiny and didn't make any noise when they walked. If that's what the lady had meant, and that had been what made Wheeljack upset, she wished she had told the lady right there her feelings on the matter.

She sometimes got words wrong… but today she got them right, because Wheeljack stopped looking upset. He looked happy again. "I would never make you leave, Danny. I would very much like you to stay with me too," he said softly, raising her up closer to his face. "There may come a time you may need to talk with another of your kind… but you will always be welcome with me. I love you very much. Don't ever doubt that."

"I love you, too," Danny said, earnest. She clung to his finger, afraid to let go now. "Am I really that small?"

Wheeljack chuckled again. "You are even smaller. You will grow though. Don't worry about physical appearances too much, Danielle," he said gently. "We will always have our differences, but what matters most is what's on the inside."

Danny thought about it for a long time. "…Food?" she suggested, touching her stomach. She was pretty sure food went in there. Maybe air.

Wheeljack's eyes smiled again. "Love and emotion," he said, tilting his head. His earfins flashed all sorts of colors. He pointed at his chest with his free hand and then at hers. "Our actions show what's inside our hearts. That's what means most. What we say and do show what kind of person we are, good or bad."

Danny stared up at him and smiled. That wasn't confusing to understand, not at all.

"You're a good person, Wheeljack," she said, meaning every word.

"Thank you, Danielle," he said, continuing their trek through the wilderness. "Come on. We need to keep moving."

Danny rested against his hand and closed her eyes. Yes, she was glad Wheeljack was so tall. Up where they were, it made her think they flew like birds. How could she ever wish for more? What could the leader-lady or any other person give her that she did not have now, with Wheeljack, together?

She honestly couldn't think of one single thing.

 

 **End** _**View.** _

_**Next** _ **: Jazz and Thundercracker are suddenly not talking. Oh no! Detectives Rachel and Wildrider are on the case to save a troubled romance**


	23. Quarrel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

It was too quiet.

Before anything else, Rachel noticed that it was far, far too quiet. She was never very talkative in the morning, but Barns and Danny seemed to hate silence and easily got Bluestreak, Jazz or Wildrider chatting. Wheeljack would always join in after a few minutes and sometimes the quieter members of their entourage would speak up half-way through the morning. They didn't talk about anything important; just little things. Rachel didn't always pay attention to the conversations, but she noticed some things. Today, for example, something was clearly missing from the air as simple conversation filtered by them.

Jazz wasn't talking.

That never, ever boded well.

She loved her robotic guardians; she had accepted that fact long ago. They, despite being aliens and having their own worries and losses to dwell on, accepted her as their adopted offspring. She accepted them right back as the parents she wished she had always had. Sure, they were a little weird, but who wasn't? She had long since learned that Thundercracker was a quiet guy, but brimming with sentimentality and gruff care. Jazz could act as childish as a human five-year-old, but was the kind of leader and protective guardian that survivors in a world like this needed to survive. How they had accepted _her_ , of all humans, and her negative qualities, Rachel would never know.

Even still… a quiet Jazz meant an upset or plotting Jazz. She saw no reason for him to be upset (he was always the happy one in their group) since they had had an amazing two day run without any drones at all. That left the plotting.

Oh, how she hated his plotting.

He was a trickster and a joker and she absolutely hated his jokes. Well, most of them. The ones that picked on her, at least. She didn't mind it when he actually did something funny, but he knew just the right buttons to push to really tick her off and he loved to do it. And she was not the most patient of people. It was aggravating.

Rachel did her best not to be obvious when she turned around to see where the silver mech was, just in case. If he noticed her noticing him, he'd probably take it up a notch with his prank, whatever it was, if it was directed at her. If it wasn't, it would certainly include her after that. He didn't seem to be looking at her, but she was suspicious the entire time.

She survived until lunch. Jazz hadn't done anything during the morning trek and was actually talking casually with Wheeljack about something. Rachel hung back a few feet to listen in, but the conversation was innocent enough (something about an Autobot general they had both known). Rachel was still on edge. Jazz was far more reserved than he should have been.

Lunchtime happened without a hitch. Rachel watched as their group chose a covered clearing in the forest they had been walking through, sitting down and starting a fire for the humans, while some of the mechs crowded Wheeljack for energon. It was a typical scene. Rachel was watching Jazz carefully when Thundercracker, who had been trailing in the back of the group, walked toward him. Rachel was expecting him to stop and talk with Jazz; she hoped he would, because then she could really tell what the silver mech was planning. Like her, Thundercracker was very good at seeing through Jazz's moods.

She waited as the two mechs passed each other—and then, Rachel almost gasped. Thundercracker pointedly ignored him and kept walking until he was clear across the edge of the clearing. He sat down, optics shuttering, and he seemed to be ignoring everyone.

…Including Jazz.

Rachel frowned. Thundercracker almost always checked in with Jazz before they settled in for camp. Just a simple 'Hi, you okay?' and maybe their weird version of a kiss, which was just touching helms together. Thundercracker was definitely not the most affection person, but Rachel was used to him extending at least those two things to Jazz in public.

Today, they just… ignored each other. Completely.

Suddenly, Rachel realized that this was not about a joke anymore.

Feeling ill, Rachel watched Thundercracker and then looked to Jazz. The latter was talking to the others now and even joking, but he did not spare a glance toward Thundercracker. The saboteur had a weird tension about him she hadn't noticed on the trail; Rachel knew it well. He was pissed off about something, but it wasn't at the people he was talking to. She had thought, maybe, it had been toward her, or the hapless Vortex, but he had smiled at her in passing and was chatting with Vortex now, friendly-like.

He was pissed at Thundercracker. Why, Rachel couldn't fathom. If anything, Thundercracker was generally the one to be pissed at Jazz over something. Thundercracker was the epitome of patience and almost _never_ did something on purpose to bother anyone, especially Jazz. Kass had jokingly claimed Thundercracker was effectively "whipped," and while he wasn't a pushover in the relationship, Rachel could see what Kass had meant. If Thundercracker had done something, it had to have been done in retaliation to something Jazz had done or said.

Troublesome.

Never one to beat around the bush, Rachel decided to find out what was happening directly from the source—sort of. Jazz never came clean about a fight and would try to avoid talking about it. Thundercracker would be blunt about the problem most likely.

Rachel got within ten feet of the jet and noticed something else off. Thundercracker hadn't looked up at her when she got closer; the mechs were very observant and Thundercracker even more so. Frowning, Rachel looked up at the giant thoughtfully.

"Hey… you okay, TC?" she asked, not sure whether to whisper or not. He was online, if his buzzing engine meant anything. His optics were shuttered, but opened instantly at the sound of her voice.

Thundercracker was not one to jump, but she could tell he was surprised by her presence. "Yes," he replied, glancing at her. He tilted his head, but didn't reveal any other emotion. "Why do you ask?"

"You're kinda quiet," she said, frowning. She had never seen _him_ sulk, of all people.

For just the briefest moment, a teasing look glinted Thundercracker's optics, making Rachel smile. "I'm always quiet," he said bluntly. He was joking, which was a rarity.

Chuckling, she had to nod. "True." She glanced back across the clearing to Jazz, who was pouting and drinking energon with Arcee and Vortex. "Anything wrong with Jazz?"

A strange thrumming sound went through Thundercracker's metal body and Rachel blinked in surprise. The mech seemed to tense up, not unfamiliar to how Jazz was currently. "What?" he demanded, only glancing up at the others. He looked away, scowling. "I don't know. Go ask _him_."

It was either the sulky expression or the total disregard for his mate's well being, but something made Rachel stared up at Thundercracker with increasing wariness.

"…Are you guys _okay_?" she asked. She didn't know why she felt nervous for asking that.

Thundercracker glanced at her, but wasn't moved. "Go eat lunch," he said gruffly, turning his head away.

"TC…" Rachel glared as the mech shuttered his optics and refused to look at her. Scowling, she turned away. " _Fine_." When he didn't want to talk, he could be just as stubborn as Jazz.

She walked back toward the humans with a stormy expression. Something was wrong. Things had gone wrong before, but she still felt uneasy about just letting it go.

They were adults, however, and had had fights before. Their relationship as a couple was not only controversial; it had its explicit ups-and-downs. It wasn't unexpected that they fought on occasion, especially with their personalities being so different. If they didn't want to talk for a few days, fine.

They would get over it. They always did. That thought gave her peace of mind, at least for the rest of the afternoon. Things would be _just_ _fine_.

 **0000**

Six days. They hadn't spoken… for… six… days.

It had gotten worse than the silence, Rachel observed with mild horror. She had kept a loose eye on Jazz during the next day, but he didn't seem any more interested in talking with Thundercracker than the latter did with him. She thought they were just sulking.

Day two was the same. And day three. And… day four. By the sixth, Rachel was desperately observing all of their interactions, mind wild with fear and confusion, looking for the slightest sign of the reason why they weren't looking at or talking to each other. Jazz had once taken her aside to ask her to let Thundercracker know he was on watch duty. He didn't answer her as to why he had to get _her_ to tell Thundercracker that, and Thundercracker didn't answer when she asked him after letting him know about the command. They just chose to ignore each other like the plague. They never even made eye-contact.

No one else had said anything, but the tension was rising every day. Rachel watched as the two mechs, who generally recharged side by side, oriented themselves at opposite ends of the camp every night. They didn't walk close together on the trails and wouldn't mingle or talk in the same groups. They had completely separated themselves.

Rachel, at the end of her nerves, prompted Wheeljack to get Jazz to hand out the energon rations, including Thundercracker's. She had hoped that the minor interaction might give her a clue as to what was going on between them.

Jazz, probably not realizing his adopted charge was watching him intently from across the field, had walked up to Thundercracker and Vortex. He handed Vortex his ration calmly, but when he turned to Thundercracker…

The energon exchanged hands calmly, coolly, but it was first time Rachel had seen Jazz and Thundercracker meet optics. There was no prompting on either side to react negatively, but—

They _glared_ at each other.

 _Glared_.

Rachel felt her blood run cold as she watched them separate. They returned to their ignoring-modes and refused to sit close to each other. Jazz took up talking with Bluestreak and Barns, and Thundercracker sat with Vortex, Kass and Arcee eventually. Rachel watched it all and suddenly wanted to throw up.

They… were fighting? For… real?

Rachel stood there, watching the two mechs, feeling suddenly very out of her element. _She_ was supposed to be the one who caused the fights. _She_ was the one who was supposed to sulk and play the third party against the mech she was mad at. That's how things worked, how it was supposed to be, at least. Thundercracker and Jazz weren't supposed to be mad at _each other_ —one of them should have been fighting with _her_ , and then the non-arguing one would patch things up for them. That's how it _always_ went.

…What could have happened?

Suddenly aware she was beginning to hyperventilate, Rachel realized this was going too far. If something was really making the two partners actually refuse to talk to one another, it had to be incredibly serious. They couldn't afford to be arguing, any of them, but Jazz and Thundercracker especially. They held the group together _with_ their togetherness. If they began to fall apart… everyone would.

Rachel stumbled back toward the others in the camp, but didn't feel right sitting down with them. She moved toward the tree line and found an overturned tree. Sinking to the ground, Rachel hugged her knees to her chest, thinking furiously. Eventually, Jazz would have to cave and tell her what was wrong, she reasoned. Or Thundercracker, always the diplomat, would make his apologies and they'd fix things.

…She hoped.

"Idiots," she muttered to herself, glaring out at the dark woods. Day light was fading slowly, but she felt as though she was being swallowed up by a cold shadow. She had to find a way to fix this. She had to.

Footsteps, human ones, made her jump. "Rachel?" She turned and saw Danny standing there, looking concerned. The short brunette walked up closer and stood behind Rachel. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I…" Rachel began, faltering. She looked out at the main group, shuddering. "Jazz and TC are fighting."

Danny sat down next to her, frowning. "I noticed. D'you think it's serious?" she asked, tilting her head. She looked like a mech doing that.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Rachel glanced up at the other woman, trying not to shake again. "What should I do, Danny?"

"Is there anything you can do?" Danny asked, surprised. She reached out and gripped Rachel's shoulder, comforting. "It's their problem. They need to handle it on their own."

"I know! But—but they _never_ fight!" she exclaimed, her eyes burning. She looked over her other shoulder, toward the two mechs in question. Doubt ravaged her mind. "What if it's really serious? And they break up? Or if they keep up this silent thing? I can't stand that and I don't think the rest of you could either!"

The other woman shook her head. "Jazz is always teasing TC. Maybe he said something really annoying?" she suggested.

Rachel threw her arms up into the air, exasperated. "They get over that, though! They always bicker for a few hours and then just forget about it or make up. They haven't spoken for _six days_!" It was going to drive her insane, the longer they fought.

Danny frowned, thinking hard. "Did you ask them?" she asked, distracted.

"Yeah, but TC just ignores me and Jazz keeps changing the subject. They're using me to send each other essential messages, but that's it! They aren't even _looking_ at each other!" Rachel gulped, and then looked up at Danny, suddenly alarmed. "D-do you think I did something?" She tried to think, but she didn't think she had done anything horribly offensive that might have turned the two mechs against each other.

"No! If you did, I'm sure they would have brought it up. They're really upset over something and it's something one of them did," Danny said, reassuring. She sighed. "I just wonder what it is."

Sighing heavily in a similar manner, Rachel rested her chin on her hand, feeling miserable. "Maybe I should try to confront them again."

Rachel froze when a shadow literally rose up over the two of them. "That vould be bad idea," drawled a familiar voice from above.

Turning around, Rachel found herself staring right up into Wildrider's faceplates. He was crouching over the log, grinning, and looking rather gleeful after listening in on the grim conversation. How such a big creature could sneak up on anyone, Rachel was still trying to comprehend.

"What, do you know something about it?" she asked, surprised. Wildrider _did_ seem to pay the most attention to details no one else seemed to notice or care about.

Wildrider grinned. "No! Not a clue!" he said brightly. He sank down to his knees, resting his helm on his hand in a very human-like way on the log, looking at both humans in front of him. He was so weird. "But I have seen this before, vith Gestalt bondmates. Ve do not give up and ve drag fight out long time. It is more fun and who likes to admit to being vrong?"

Danny was startled by his comment. "They're doing it on purpose?" she asked.

"Yes, that is vhat I think. Silly mechs," Wildrider said, chuckling. He grinned toothily at both women. "Probably something stupid, yes?"

Of all the people to call someone else _stupid_ … Rachel snorted. Danny was a bit more serious about the matter.

"I don't know, Wildrider," she said, earnest. She had no fear of the mech and touched his arm. "They seem so upset. What if it is serious?"

Wildrider shrugged, unconcerned. "I do not know." Suddenly, his optics blared and he moved back slightly, radiating excitement. "Let us fix that, then!"

Rachel and Danny both stared. "Huh?"

"Let us find out vhat problem is," Wildrider continued, as if they were somehow incapable of understanding spoken words. Smug bastard. He pointed at Thundercracker and Jazz. "Then ve know how to fix it. Good plan, yes?"

Rachel gazed out at the mechs in question, the ill feeling returning to her chest. Wildrider had a point and she wasn't just going to sit idly by while her family fell apart. Not again, anyway.

"…Well, it beats watching them play the silent treatment forever," she conceded.

Wildrider clapped his hands together in approval. "Adventure time!" he exclaimed, giggling excitedly. Rachel glared.

"What's the plan, Rachel?" Danny asked brightly, also looking eager. At least she had the decency not to laugh over the matter.

Rachel thought about it, considering their limited options. "I talk to Thundercracker, you two corner Jazz. TC won't put up with Wildrider, I don't think, but you're a smooth talker and Jazz likes 'Rider, so you two can battle with Jazz." She nodded firmly, hands situated on her hips. "We'll talk the answer out of them." Or she'd purposely cry right in front of them and make them feel like assholes for the rest of the month. She knew still she had that power over them, but it was a last resort.

"Excellent!" Wildrider said.

"Wait!" Danny cried. She turned around. "Bro fist for good luck." She held her fist out behind Rachel toward the mech.

Wildrider grinned. "Bro fist!" He let his fist hang there and Danny tapped hers against his; if he tried to tap hers, he'd probably break her knuckles.

Rachel sighed heavily. "Let's go."

 **0000**

"Ve are detectives! Like James Bond-squishy in books Barns reads, yes?"

"Um, I'd think Sherlock Holmes was more applicable to this, but sure, 'Rider, sure."

The enthusiasm Wildrider had about discovering the secret to why Jazz and Thundercracker were fighting was a bit difficult to follow. Danny just pegged it on boredom, since nothing really new or exciting had happened within their group for a few weeks. She doubted he was as concerned as Rachel was about the whole thing, but even still, Danny knew that everyone had noticed and it had them on edge. She had observed Jazz and Thundercracker ignoring each other a few days ago, but hadn't thought it was serious. Apparently, it was, and serious fights were not good for the group morale. The week-long bickering match between Vortex and Arcee last year had even irritated Wheeljack, and he openly berated both of them for making the others nervous. Fighting was tolerable for only so long in this world, where they all had to be on their toes, all the time.

Jazz had taken over one of the back corners of the camp and was just resting, gazing out at the campfire. There wasn't much on his faceplates, but Danny could see the intense posture Rachel had told her about. He seemed like he was ready to jump at any time, as if expecting an attack. Danny frowned as she and Wildrider walked over, trying to be obvious; if he was really that jumpy, she didn't really want to get squished by a nervous mech.

Luckily, Jazz was almost always in control of everything, so he just looked up and smiled when he saw them approaching. Wildrider giggled nervously, but Danny kept a straight face. This was serious business, after all.

"Hey, what's up guys?" Jazz asked as they came up beside him. Danny moved to sit on a rock, even though it barely brought her up to his waist even seated. He tilted his head, suddenly concerned. "Somethin' wrong?"

Danny smiled. "No… just wanted to chill with you," she said, aiming for casual. The concern lifted from Jazz's faceplates, so she probably sounded honest.

"Oh, that's cool," Jazz chuckled. He leaned back against a tree, which creaked but held firm. It sent some leaves raining down on top of them, but Danny only focused on the silver mech in front of her. "How've you been, Danny? Haven't talked t' ya in ages."

"I'm good," she replied brightly. "How about you?" She had to steer the conversation toward their fight soon, but it couldn't be too soon.

Jazz shrugged. "I'm good… kinda tired. Been a long week, right?" Danny wasn't sure if that was a purposeful hint or just a subconscious lament. He had to have been feeling down about the fighting, even though he could be very stubborn about ending an argument.

"Yeah…" Danny paused and glanced over at Wildrider, trying to think of how to carefully approach the topic of the argument. Gently, subtly…

Wildrider seemed to take her look as a command to speak up. He tilted his head at Jazz, pausing just for a moment. "So… you are mad at big Boss-mech?" he asked, the slyness he was attempting in his voice falling flat.

Yes, he was as subtle as a brick to the face, but he was _their_ unsubtle social nightmare, Danny told herself with a sigh. She just had to work around him. Jazz had looked startled and she could see the guarded look Rachel had told her about slowly creeping back into his face. She had to act fast.

"You guys haven't slept together recently," she added hastily, looking concerned. She didn't miss the sour look that passed over Jazz's faceplates. That wasn't a good sign.

He shrugged. "Eh… don't feel like it." He was shutting back down.

"Fighting?" she ventured, craning her neck around to look him in the face. His armor blocked a lot of her view, but she could see a heavy frown on his faceplates.

"It's nothing," he said shortly, very much not interested in continuing the conversation. He did know that keeping Danny out of his business was much more difficult than keeping Rachel out, so he added, "Mild disagreement."

At least he was confirming there was a problem. Danny looked over at Thundercracker, who was talking with Rachel now. Neither seemed very pleased. "You haven't talked in six days," Danny said, turning back to Jazz.

Jazz looked up, surprised and a bit annoyed. "Yes, we have," he said defensively. "I gave him sentry orders the other day."

Danny glared. "Yeah, through Rachel, who I might add is _very_ distressed over you guys not talking," she replied harshly.

Pulling the parental-guilt-trip card, as Kass called it, was a low but necessary blow. Jazz winced visibly and looked down at the ground, obviously affected by the accusation that he was upsetting his charge.

"She shouldn't worry," he said, mostly mumbling the words. "It's just a little argument." At least he had the decency to look a little ashamed.

Scoffing, Danny threw her arms up in the air. "An argument that has you not speaking for six days? That's not a little thing, Jazz."

Wildrider frowned, peering down at the other mech. "Most suspicious," he added lowly. Only he could make a serious statement like that into something ridiculous.

Jazz glared at him briefly. "Ah, it ain't a big thing," he said, waving his hand. "Just a disagreement."

Danny squinted up at the mech. "About?" she prompted, arms crossed against her chest.

"Nothin'," was all the reply he seemed willing to give her. Stubborn glitch.

"Jeez, I thought you mechs had vocabularies and weren't broken CDs," she said darkly, scowling.

Jazz smirked, bemused, though he still had that tension in his limbs. "I think you mean record, Dan."

"Whatever!" she exclaimed. This was going nowhere; she was running out of things she could say to him. She stood up and fixed Jazz with a firm look. "It's none of my business what you guys fight about or even that you fight at all, but remember that what you guys do affects us too. We're a family and things like these can screw everyone up."

Jazz stared back at her, mulling over her words. He looked away, grim. "…Thanks fer th' memo."

None of them needed to be reminded of the gravity of their situation or how disunity could spell out death for the majority of them. That's why they were together in the first place; survival was dependent on cooperation. Danny sighed, sad. She had hoped that things would blow over soon, but everything about this made her feel uneasy.

With one last reluctant look at Jazz, Danny turned around. They had to think about this again; talking to them individually wasn't working, at least for Jazz. The fight most likely wasn't about something one of them did to the other; it was a matter of pride, it seemed. It wasn't a fight between their factions (they had been pleasant to everyone else except each other) and it wasn't as though they would spontaneously be so callous with each other that they actually insulted each other on purpose. This had to have been totally random, but very insulting for both parties.

Wildrider was not too pleased that she (verbally) dragged him away from the confrontation. "Ve are not asking more?" he asked, sounding disappointed. Danny sighed and patted his leg as they walked back toward the fire.

"He won't tell us," she said, sure of it. They would have to wait until they heard back from Rachel about Thundercracker. She looked wistfully out toward the two people in question. "I wonder if Rachel's having more luck. Otherwise, we'll just have to wait until one of them cracks."

Judging by Rachel's expression, things were not going well with Thundercracker either. Danny gritted her teeth.

Okay, time to get serious…

 **0000**

When they met humans on the road or in camps, they were always most afraid of Thundercracker. Rachel had been timid of him for a long time, but she had learned after those many years spent with him and Jazz that he was just a big metal nice guy who happened to be able to tear drones apart like sheets of paper. She didn't even think about how he had once done that to her own kind, or to Jazz's kind; whenever she looked at him, she saw a father figure, a protector. He was just as irreplaceable as Jazz was, since he was usually the strong one who carried them emotionally through the tough times.

Tonight, Rachel realized, it was she who was going to have to be the strong one. She already wanted to cry over the whole mess, but she had to be emotionally in control. Thundercracker was sitting alone now, drinking his energon, so she knew she could approach him. He would never physically harm her and any emotional damage was just incidental, she kept telling herself over and over again. She hated the fact that she even had to tell herself that, but that was a hurdle for another day…

The jet only looked up and rumbled when he saw her approach. It was a friendly-rumble, she deduced, so she smiled at him and sat down beside him. He offered her a hand, to sit up on his leg, but she shook her head. She didn't want to crowd him if this went bad.

For a good length of time, they didn't say anything. That was okay, too. Thundercracker wasn't a talkative guy and Rachel was only chatty when she was in a good mood. Nervously she gazed out at the camp, steadying her heart. Looking next to her at the metal body, she could see fresh scrapes from drones or just from traveling. Unlike human bruises, sometimes mech scars didn't go away easily, at least not without a medic's help. Rachel smiled sadly to herself, reaching out for the leg. He didn't flinch at all.

"TC?" she began, tracing the scratches absently. He probably couldn't even feel her touch; it was still comforting to be able to give it. It wasn't like they could exchange hugs.

"Yes?" he asked, focusing on his cube of energon.

Rachel bit her lip, nervous. "…Can I ask you something? Something serious?" She didn't want to make him upset or overly defensive again.

Her meek tone probably set off a bunch of alarms for him. Thundercracker turned immediately, fixing her with a stare. "What is it?" he asked. When she first met him, she had interpreted his voice to always be "serious". Now, she could easily hear the concern faintly ringing in his tone.

Swallowing, Rachel decided to cut to the chase. "Are you and Jazz fighting?" she asked, tapping nervously on his leg. The quiet sound of flesh on metal was the only sound that followed.

Thundercracker just stared down at her for a moment, before all emotion left his faceplates. He turned away, shutting down. "It's nothing to be concerned over."

"TC! Please, it's making me sick to my stomach, okay?" she said, trembling. She stood up, her stomach doing flips. "What's the matter? What happened? Did he say something stupid?" Jazz said stupid things all the time; it was possible.

Thundercracker scowled, refusing to look at her still. "I don't want to talk about it."

Rachel let out a hissing breath, eyes burning. "TC! Come on!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking. She took a deep breath. "It's not fair. Please… why don't you just hit him and get over it? That's what you always do!"

A few punches here, a few smacks there… things got better. They always did. They _had_ to get better.

The jet rolled his shoulders. "That's hardly a solution," he replied, flatly.

Rachel felt cold inside and out. "So it is serious!"

"Drop it," Thundercracker growled.

Drop it? Drop what, the fact she was concerned? "TC—!" she exclaimed, hurt.

Thundercracker sent her one look—irritated, frustrated optics met her weary eyes. "I'm not going to answer, so give up," he said coldly, turning away. The fact that he said that much was a shock.

But even more than that… the fact that he completely disregarded her concern… that he bluntly told her to go away when she was so worried… Rachel looked up at him, heart torn. She wanted to say something back at him, to hurt him as he hurt her. She just didn't have the strength. It didn't seem right.

"You're such a jerk," she said, eyes burning. She felt ready to throw up. Or hit something.

Thundercracker flinched and turned around, but Rachel didn't want to hear it, not now. She was twenty-years-old and yet, she had to grapple with her friends to get them to reveal to her the details of a serious situation as if she were still a child. She loved the mechs and Arcee, for all of their quirks, but when they chose to act like the humans couldn't fathom or handle the things they had to say… it made her angry and hurt beyond words.

Marching toward the others, Rachel gasped back sobs, refusing to cry. She was scared, hurt and had no idea what she'd wake up to tomorrow. Their entire family dynamic was falling to pieces and the two responsible didn't even have the courtesy to tell her why.

She saw Vortex sitting by himself, probably getting ready to recharge, and she realized that after everything, the last thing she wanted to do was to sleep near either Jazz or Thundercracker. Vortex had been avoiding recharging next to either lately ( _Goddamn paranoid moron_ ), so she figured she'd be safe there.

Ignoring his surprised expression, Rachel marched over to the helicopter and sat down beside him, all but collapsing against his side, unsteady breaths rocking her body. She wanted to burst into tears. Suddenly, she realized she was in fact crying. She hadn't even noticed.

"What do you—?" Vortex began, but as soon as he saw her emotional state, he backpedaled. Alarm and mild shock filtered into his face. He sat there in a posture that made it seem like he wanted to reach out and steady the seated woman. "Why are you crying? What's wrong?"

His honest concern almost made her laugh. Rachel wiped at her face, biting back another sob. "I hate TC and Jazz," she muttered into her hand. Oh, and _now_ she had her usual tension headache. She absolutely hated crying.

Vortex tensed beside her. "…Oh." The way he said it indicated he had no real reply to that. Rachel sighed gustily, forcing the tears from her eyes. She was a grown woman; this was unacceptable.

"Not really," she admitted, looking up at him. He was gazing down at her, confusion in his optics. "…But…" Rachel gripped her jeans, suddenly channeling her emotions back into anger. "Why are men so fucking stupid?"

"…Um." The helicopter just sat there. He wanted to give her a good answer, Rachel could tell, but didn't have one. At least he tried.

"Never mind." Rachel rubbed her face, exhausted. She looked back up at the mech, unwilling to get back up and face either Jazz or Thundercracker now. "Can I sleep here?" It was warm enough she could just sleep out in the open, but she didn't want to sleep alone.

She didn't miss the hesitation or flinch in Vortex's posture. A variety of emotion passed over his faceplates, most hidden partially by his battle mask, but she didn't miss seeing the mildly pleased look. "Fine," he said, overly blunt, forcing himself to sound disinterested. He looked away, awkward.

Yes, men were stupid, no matter the race. Head heavy, Rachel closed her eyes and tried to ignore the building headache storming at the back of her mind. This needed to end. Soon.

 **0000**

Operation Throw Caution to the Wind commenced the next morning. Rachel preferred to call it that, but Danny liked Operation Low-Blow, because she knew this had to be seen as a very desperate move on the humans' parts. Jazz was always a cool potato ("Cool _cucumber_ , Danny," Kass later explained) and Thundercracker could be a stoic mountain of inhuman metal, but they had weaknesses that the humans had learned how to exploit throughout the years.

It was fighting dirty, but desperate times called for desperate measures…

"You got this?" Danny asked quietly, pulling Rachel aside.

Several others were now attuned to the tension between Jazz and Thundercracker, but between her, Rachel and Wildrider, there was an increased sense of urgency. Wildrider had taken it upon himself to mock-pounce on Jazz, knocking him down; they always messed around like that and Jazz laughed, but Thundercracker immediately walked over to them. At least he didn't totally hate Jazz, if anything, and was still concerned about his well-being.

Rachel nodded, firm, but she was looking increasingly harassed. Danny had seen her crying the night before and knew that, sooner or later, this was going to have to happen. Setting it off now was just saving the entire group from a bigger emotional backlash later. Jazz and Thundercracker were about to either tell them the truth, or be labeled as the most heartless mechs in the group. She really doubted they'd fit the bill for the latter.

Wildrider's scuffle could only work for so long, but everything went to according to plan. He and Jazz mock-fought for several minutes, Arcee huffing in the background and Thundercracker did his best to subtly move closer, _just in case_. He scowled and didn't look pleased, and Jazz completely ignored him, but it was a good sign regardless. Wildrider cleverly moved the fight closer toward the now-seated Thundercracker. Danny had to give him points; he was picking up the concept of "subtle" much faster than she had expected.

"…okay, I'm done, 'Rider," Jazz said after a while, waving Wildrider away, grinning despite having a few dents more than he had before. They were the only two mechs willing to wrestle with one another, so this wasn't too suspicious.

Wildrider grinned and backed away obligingly from Jazz. He sent Thundercracker a leer and then sauntered away… right past Danny and Rachel, who were quickly walking toward Jazz, and Thundercracker behind him. Thundercracker had seated himself right in front of a dense stand of pines, and as the women approached it became clear that the two of them had been cornered… they could not escape without looking like complete idiots, tripping over each other. Tensing up at the sight of the two humans, Jazz immediately stood and opened his mouth to speak.

It did no good. Rachel walked up to them and stopped several feet away from the two mechs, who looked down at her grimly, knowing they were about to be confronted again. They were expecting Rachel to just stand there and yell at them, arms crossed tightly…

But she promptly burst into tears.

It wasn't an act; Rachel bottled her feelings up in nice, compartmentalized bubbles, or at least that's what Kass accused her of doing. Retrieving said-emotions was rather easy – all she had to do was think about what was upsetting her. It wasn't like the mechs had never seen someone cry before – Barns had assured them that due to something called "hormones" there was no way to avoid it in a group of humans composed primarily of women (Rachel had slugged him for the comment)… but for some reason, the action was very disturbing to the Cybertronians. They were used to much lower-key emotional outbursts, and for someone to make their feelings known so _very_ loudly and clearly was an affront – almost like a slap in the face.

"Whoa!" Jazz sputtered. He crouched lowly, optics blazing. "Rachel, Rachel, honey, why are you—?"

Asking her 'why' was a bad move. Danny grimaced as the tirade began. " _YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE!_ " Rachel howled, Jazz flinching away from the irate human. "You are driving us all insane and you won't tell anyone anything and you're being totally inconsiderate of everyone around you and—"

And she went on and on. Danny sighed, hating that they had to come to this. The others had rushed up as soon as Rachel started the waterworks, but now they were standing there, shocked by the display. Thundercracker was actually looking rather taken back by the one-sided screaming match that had erupted as Rachel bitched Jazz out and the silver mech tried to calm her down.

"What is this about?" Barns asked, stunned. He had walked up with Arcee and both looked very out of the loop. Danny just shook her head.

"—I'm sick to my stomach about you guys breaking up or leaving or fighting and then leaving us all out to hang when the drones attack—!" Rachel cried, distraught. "What's going on? !"

It was the same question as she had asked before. But this time, Danny noted smugly, the guilt factor had been raised to the maximum. Jazz looked positively speechless and Thundercracker looked cowed. It was a step in the right direction.

"I…" Jazz began, reaching for words.

"Why?" Rachel demanded, getting in his face, since he was still crouched. She pointed at him and then at Thundercracker, breathing erratically. "Why are you guys fighting? !"

Jazz and Thundercracker both tensed up, Jazz standing slowly. He and the jet exchanged a quick, reluctant look.

"What?" Thundercracker began, awkward. Both were hyper-aware of the fact that the entire camp was listening and watching. "We're—we're not."

Rachel, crying still, sniffed miserably. "Bullshit! You haven't spoken in days! And you're avoiding each other!" she accused. She sounded horribly upset.

Finally, her outburst seemed to be doing what they had intended it to do. Jazz's resolve to deny everything seemed to crack under the pressure of Rachel standing there in distress. Thundercracker also seemed ready to talk, clearly affected by the sight as well.

"…Aw, Rachel…" Jazz began, sounding deeply apologetic. "I didn't think you'd be that upset. I'm sorry, kiddo."

Rachel glared away from them, wiping at her face. The awkward silence that fell over the clearing was intense. Jazz and Thundercracker both look like they wanted to say something, but ended up just looking at each other, grasping for something to do.

Danny decided it was time to move forward with the plan. " _Why_ are you fighting?" she asked, frowning.

Jazz hesitated. "Well…" he started awkwardly. He glanced at Thundercracker briefly before continuing, "The other night we ended up talkin' about our younger years on Cybertron – b'fore the war an' all. We were talkin' about different things we'd read or heard and ended up discussin' some music stuff. Turns out both of us liked it a lot."

"I liked the classics," Thundercracker interjected. He stood back, looking irritated down at Jazz. "He seemed to think the _rubbish_ that came up out of Kaon was better than the works of Harmonica." Danny knew that name! He was a Cybertronian musician, apparently. Wheeljack had told her about him after she expressed interested in Earth music.

"Hey, I like th' classics just as much as th' next mech!" Jazz snapped, irritation abruptly returning as he turned to face the other mech. "I was tryin' t' convince him about this one song. It totally captured my life story, ya know?"

Thundercracker stared, unimpressed. "It sounds like a trash compactor with whistling."

"Ah, you don't know th' good stuff, man," Jazz said, scowling. He waved his hand at Thundercracker, dismissing his comment. "It's not all about order."

The jet glared back at him. "And you don't know good culture," he replied sharply.

"Frag you!" Jazz exclaimed. He motioned with his hand, insulted. "That song was bangin'!"

Thundercracker face-palmed. " _Primus_ …" he growled. He glared down at his mate, frustrated. "Let's just drop it. We're not going to reach an agreement about this."

"…Fine." Jazz looked at the sky, as if distracted. "I'm still right."

Thundercracker growled and Jazz laughed. "JAZZ!" Wheeljack suddenly shouted, irritated. "Primus above… both of you are being ridiculous." Kass and Vortex both nodded in agreement; Barns still looked a bit confused, and Arcee and Bluestreak looked absolutely bewildered.

Jazz chuckled shortly, shaking his helm. "A'ight, a'ight…" he muttered. He looked down at the woman in front of him. "Listen, Rachel. We were stupid about this, I know. I didn't think it would have upset you so much. I'm really sorry," he said, looking and sounding truly sincerely. "We both are." Thundercracker inclined his head, agreeing.

Danny smiled. It had worked out way better than she had expected and in a much shorter frame of time. Looking over at Wildrider, she and the mech exchanged a grin; mission accomplished. The two partners would probably take a bit longer to get over their disagreement, but the group would no longer have to put up with the awkward tension between them. Jazz and Thundercracker actually did look better now and even shared a quick smile before turning back to Rachel.

They were probably not expecting Rachel's expression of concern to evaporate into a look of building rage. Danny took a step back, suddenly aware of what was going to happen next. Rachel's temper was worse than the weather, especially when she was already upset.

"Uh…" Jazz began, noticing the stormy expression on Rachel's face.

Rachel seethed in front of the two mechs. "You nearly gave me a nervous breakdown over a goddamn _song_?" she demanded, face growing redder and redder.

Jazz looked at Thundercracker and then back at her. "…Sorry?" he offered, surprisingly meek.

Rachel had turned a nice shade of crimson. "FUCK YOU!" she screeched, throwing her arms up into the air. "I HATE EVERYTHING!"

Everyone knew she was just exaggerating in her distress, but Jazz looked stricken and rushed after the human, who pointedly marched back over to the camp with every intention of not speaking with the mech. Thundercracker dropped his face into his open hands, sighing.

Kass stood there, looking up at Thundercracker. Her eyes narrowed slowly when he finally raised his head to look at her.

"You're probably the smartest creatures on this planet," she began, "and yet you are the most idiotic as well. Brilliant job."

Thundercracker snarled, but Kass did not seem fazed. With a heavy sigh of her own, she walked back to the camp. Bluestreak watched her go, optics wider.

"Wait… you guys were fighting?" he asked, looking at Thundercracker with mild distress etched into his faceplates.

Thundercracker just _stared_ at him, while Wildrider burst into hysterical laughter. Danny groaned.

Barns just stood there, looking like he had been hung out on a line. " _What_ just happened?" he asked, startled. " _Avez-vous tous perdu vos esprits?_ "

Arcee shook her head slowly, confused. "I have absolutely no idea."

" _Men_! They're the same everywhere!" Danny exclaimed dramatically, shaking her head. "Ah, well. At least everyone is okay now."

Thundercracker rumbled and moved past the group, heading over to where Jazz was now trying to keep Rachel from climbing a tree to get away from him. She did that whenever she got really upset, Danny noted. The little family would have to sort its problems out on their own. As for her, her job was done. She and Wildrider congratulated themselves with a well-earned high-five (or rather, Danny smacking his open, still palm).

"…So… what just happened, for real?" Barns asked as they walked back to their supplies, looking concerned.

Danny sighed gustily. Really, _men_. "Come're, Captain Observational. Let me explain…"

 **0000**

That evening, Danny wasn't sure what she was going to find. Rachel had crashed early, utterly spent from her outburst as well as the anxiety all week long. Vortex seemed content to let her rest near him. Jazz and Thundercracker frowned at the sight of the two sitting by the fire together, but didn't say anything. They were already in a bad spot with her, so Danny wasn't surprised they left them alone and settled over where Wildrider and Danny were seated. Danny couldn't help but grin widely as Thundercracker sat against a rock outcropping and let Jazz lean back against his chest. Both had cheered up considerably over the day and things were almost back to normal.

"You guys caused a whole bunch of trouble, I hope you realize," Danny said, looking up at the mechs, fixing them with a mock-glare.

"Silly fight," Wildrider added, chuckling. "I thought Drag Strip and I vere bad…"

Jazz chuckled and relaxed against the jet. "You know, it was a whole lot easier to fight with each other when it was only us two," he joked, looking up at Thundercracker.

The larger mech smirked back at him. "Yeah. We'd just take pot-shots at each other with our cannons." Danny knew that that was probably the truth.

"Ah, good times," Jazz sighed. He let his helm drop against Thundercracker's chest. "Though… I am glad this over. I hate not talking to you." His honesty and Thundercracker's gentle rumble made Danny grin even more.

She had had a feeling the fight was a bit more than just a prank gone bad. This was an ego-thing, a pride-thing. "You guys weren't even mad at each other, were you?" she asked, happy despite herself. They just didn't want to be the one to apologize first. _Goddamn egotism…_

"It was th' principle of th' thing, ya see." He grinned up at Thundercracker, who actually smirked back. This was probably more like a game for them than anything else. Danny doubted they'd ever play it again, at least to this extreme.

Wildrider did his best impression of arching an eyebrow. "If Little-Rachel hears that, she _vill_ find vay to murder you," he replied so pointedly, even Thundercracker barked out a laugh.

"Ha!" Jazz laughed. He leaned back further into Thundercracker's grasp. "I guess she got her revenge enough today." Thundercracker smirked, but said nothing.

Danny shook her head and looked back out at the camp. Kass was getting dinner ready and everything was calm as the sun set over the horizon. She sighed, feeling much more at peace with the world.

She felt Wildrider shift under her, prompting her to look up at him. "I am good detective, yes?" he asked, grinning.

Danny smirked, sighing to herself. "…Yup, yes you are, 'Rider," she said, patting his leg. She closed her eyes, content.

"…Now ve should investigate vhy you and Barns are not together like Boss Mechs."

"Don't even _think_ about it, 'Rider."

 

  


* * *

  


**End** _**Quarrel** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: If the drones catch you alone in the woods, what movie reference will save you the most? Three of the survivors find out.**

* * *

 

 **Notes**  
-Rachel's reaction may seem a bit over-exaggerated, but her character's emotional stability is very much based on the stability of her environment.  
-Danny's random misuse of phrases and slang? She's slowly picking things up from Barns, Kass and Rachel. She sometimes mixes up the words. **  
**


	24. Standing Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

Kass refused to become her mother. Not because she disliked how her mother had turned out (goodness, no). She was a model mother and a wonderful wife. It was just… Kass didn't want to be thought of only as that. She had no interest in children ( _if_ she even ever met a suitable mate, she thought grimly; Barns was not only already taken, he was a brother figure in her mind anyway). She was an artist at heart. She wanted more for herself than just being a good homemaker.

It wasn't as though she hated most chores or doing "motherly" things. She _was_ incredibly motherly, she had to admit; Bluestreak was a little brother to her and she had a soft spot for the rambunctious Wildrider, even if he did creep her out on occasion. She was one of the few humans who had received good instructions on washing clothes or preparing food, so she didn't mind bearing the burden of doing a lot of the domestic work around the camp.

Chores hadn't been assigned within their group, outside of the mech watch groups at night. The humans had far more menial tasks to do than the mechs did, between washing their clothes, getting and cooking food, washing dishes and the like. The Cybertronians were always patient as the humans either made or broke camp, but Kass always felt the need to hurry up from the moment they all rose in the morning. Daylight was important and they couldn't really afford to waste any.

Everyone offered to help with those chores, of course, but she was one who did the dishes best or made the best meals. It wasn't as though they forced her to do it, but she felt obligated to do so, given that everyone had a niche. Rachel was always a fierce fighter and Danny and Barns mended sour relationships almost with a magical touch. If doing the dishes every morning helped her friends, Kass could tolerate it.

But she still _really_ hated doing the dishes. She always had. Not because she didn't like getting her hands dirty; she just hated preparing for it. Getting fresh water, decontaminating it, boiling it—and _then_ she could clean. Soap wasn't easy to find either, so sometimes they had to use sand or nothing at all. It was grungy work, but oh, it was a particular pain to get the water ready. It was such a time-wasting thing, too. She hated wasting time.

But it had to be done. Sighing, Kass stood up in the middle of their camp, breakfast having been finished up. Rachel was going about collecting all of their stray supplies and rolling up the tarps from the ground. Danny was helping her as well as putting left over food away. Kass looked down at the coffee pot, the pans, plates and silverware—and sighed again. Grabbing at the two buckets they kept for such an occasion, Kass set about finding the path down to the river. They always camped near one, just in case.

"Where are you going, Kass?" Barns called, from his seated position by the fire. He had just finished up eating.

"I have to get water for the dishes," she said, waving the buckets at him. She paused, considering. Trying to carry up that much water would be crazy alone; she usually had a mech to help her, but since Barns was right there… "Could you help me pull up the buckets?"

Barns grinned. "Sure!" he said brightly, putting his plate down. He stood up and motioned behind him. "Arcee, would you like to help as well?"

Arcee, for all of her standoffish behavior, was never one to turn away a person in need. "Of course," she said, nodding. She rolled over to them, offering to take the buckets. "Let's get going."

Kass led the way down the forest path, mindful of roots and debris. The trees were rather close together, but Arcee had no problems sliding through the branches, considering she was much smaller than the mechs in their group. Kass only partially listened to the conversation Barns and Arcee were having, glancing at them occasionally as they reached the river. It was a very steep path, so Kass was grateful Arcee would be pulling up the water all that way.

"…and so, when they say that, they knock on wood with their hands, to make sure the thing they just said doesn't happen," Barns explained, chatting on and on about inane human traditions. He did know quite a bit more about them than Kass or any of the others did.

"Humans are so strange," Arcee replied, sounding wistful. She tilted her head and smiled, however, at the two humans. "I feel like I never understand what you mean when you tell us stories, Barnaby."

Barns laughed. "It's okay! Humanity is a weird race," he said. "A lot of the time, I don't understand it either."

Kass nodded, smiling in agreement. She had always supposed it was not natural for them to understand each other completely either. Absurdity was just part of their nature. Their differences defined them all, she had to concede. She was quiet and reserved; Barns was talkative and outgoing, as was Danny. Rachel could be a mix of two, depending on the moment.

Even the mechs were different, or at least, they were picking up cues from the humans to act in more absurdly different ways. Bluestreak was more talkative than anyone in the entire group and the quietest, Vortex, was always telling him to shut up.

Arcee was slowly getting over their differences, Kass noted as they crouched by the river. When Kass and Bluestreak first joined up in their group, she had seen a lot of unity in the group. She wasn't expecting any factional differences, even though she herself was a bit nervous about being around any Decepticon. Bluestreak got over it very quickly and she had not seen any animosity between the group members before.

That changed when Wildrider crept just a little too close into Arcee's personal space during their morning trek. Whipping around, Arcee had all but shoved a cannon into the sports car's face. Wildrider laughed it off and Arcee backed off with only a growl, but it let Kass know that _yes_ , there was still Autobot-Decepticon tension in their numbers.

It only seemed to be a few of them, really. Thundercracker seemed hyper-conscious of his own past and would always distance himself from his previous faction by claiming to be Neutral. Vortex thought it was nothing to be ashamed of, to have been a Decepticon. Arcee was even more obstinate about the fact that she still was an Autobot, and that someday, they would find and join with more Autobots.

Kass didn't know if Arcee's adamant comments were signs of desperation or her sheer emotional strength. The little bike was not an idiot by any means. She just honestly believed in her own faction's honor and worth. It might have been overly hopeful, but… what was so wrong with having hope, especially in a world like this?

With a sigh, Kass looked up and down the creek bed. Then she looked back up the steep slope of the hill, not relishing the thought of the hike back. They had to get moving. Although it was unlikely that the stream had become contaminated overnight, they still had to have Wheeljack check the water for any radioactive elements or other debris before she could use it.

"Let's go before the others get worried," she said abruptly. Barns had been telling them a story about his grandfather fishing as a boy in creeks like these. Arcee nodded, hoisting the water up effortlessly.

Kass turned to the hill, bracing herself for the long climb—when suddenly, Arcee dropped the buckets with a loud, watery thud.

"What—?" was all she had time to say before the Autobot lashed out, grabbing Kass up like a doll, Barns with her other arm, and they shot off toward the hill. Kass gasped but had no time to ask questions. The ground vanished and they hit the dirt inside a ravine they had climbed over moments before.

Face smacking on an exposed tree root, Kass sputtered and tried to sit up. Arcee had let her go and crouched lowly, optics blazing. Her engines were running silent, however, almost as if she had stopped them entirely. Kass rolled over and opened her mouth to speak—but she froze as a shadow passed over her face.

Her breath caught as slim shadows danced over the inside of the ravine and her eyes were pinned to the figure hovering over them.

Drones.

Kass stared up at the creature literally only a foot over their location, the whirling of its mechanical insides the only sound she could hear now.

It was right there.

 _It was right there._

Rage and fear combated each other furiously and left Kass only able to look up at the monster. She wanted to tear it apart. She wanted to see it shriek and flail and burn and—

A larger hand silently grasped her arm. Kass stilled, knowing it was Barns, who was watching the drone with just as much intensity. A soothing, understanding gesture. Kass exhaled noiselessly, her eyes searing.

The drone, hissing, floated onward, no longer directly over their heads. Kass followed it with her eyes, her stomach churning and her mouth dry. The sight of them flying, their tentacle-like limbs slithering through the air like snakes—those had been the last thing her parents seen before they were ripped to shreds.

She hated them. Oh, how she hated them.

She turned her head slowly, knowing one false move would alert the drones. Even if she wanted to tear them apart with her bare hands… there was no way she could. And she wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of killing her like this.

This was not good. Neither she nor Barns had a weapon and Arcee would have a lot of difficulty fighting it off alone. Plus, if one was near, others had to be close, too. If they engaged it, the others would appear and then there was practically no hope of surviving.

If they could only tell the others… Kass shivered, feeling ill. If their group somehow distracted the drones – even that would help. As it was, they couldn't do anything now but wait. She watched carefully for the creature to see them, which would have forced them to move, but it just slithered through the air, propelled by its magnets, looking terribly out of place in the recovering forest.

Arcee was looking at the drone with sharp, blazing optics. She was ready to strike. Kass wanted to tell her to stand down, immediately fearing that the Autobot soldier would attack the drones. If she did, the humans could run…

But Kass wasn't going to run away from a friend. Not again.

Barns leaned forward carefully. He spoke, but it was soft; Kass almost didn't hear it, even if he speaking right into her ear. "It can't see us if we don't move," he said with incredible care. Both were staring up at the drone, waiting for it to hear them. It never gave a sign that it did; they would have been under fire the moment it had.

"It has heat sensors," she whispered back, gripping more into his coat sleeve. She shuddered as the drone whipped around, not seeing them but merely changing direction. It was so inhuman looking.

"Triggered by motion," Barns whispered back, his lips barely moving. He was watching the drones with interest more than fear. "Wheeljack and I discovered that."

She could understand why Barns would be interested in watching the drone; this was really the closest they had calmly gotten up to a living drone. Usually they were caught in a fast-paced warzone when they encountered a live one… and the dead ones, while plentiful, probably didn't satisfy the scientist in the young man.

Even still, Kass had to resist the urge to punch him in the arm. They spent their days _avoiding_ trouble! This was almost their worst case scenario, to be trapped by drones in a small group without any means of defense. They would be lucky if they got out of this alive!

The drone, which was making a trilling noise, circled around and focused now on what Kass assumed were the buckets Arcee had dropped. Kass wanted to move then, the moment its piercing red eye was no longer pointed in their direction, but Arcee didn't move. She just watched the drone silently, evaluating the situation and gauging a proper response. Kass drew back further, knowing to wait until the Autobot determined the best plan and made a move. As much as Kass liked to blow the bastards up, she knew she wasn't a strategist.

In hindsight, she was very glad she hadn't brought Rachel. Or Wildrider. They wouldn't have been that patient, at all.

If they moved and tried to run from the drone, perhaps they could cause enough havoc to attract their friends before the other drones came. Maybe, if they were just quick enough, the head start they got could—

Barns tensed up before she saw it; Kass stopped breathing for a good two seconds as a second drone appeared out of no where, sliding through the air right behind the first. Hopes dashed, Kass suddenly felt fear bubble up inside her gut once again as the creatures began to look around again. How they had remained unseen, Kass had no idea. It wouldn't last.

She looked behind her, at Barns whose grim expression told her he felt the same. Arcee looked tenser than ever, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. They all knew that they couldn't out run two. Kass had seen them shred a fleeing deer to pieces. Turning her head, Kass looked back at the drones, her heart in her throat.

They had to move. If the drones found them in the ravine they would be dead before they could blink. They had to get out of this hole and run. Splitting up might help but there was no telling who the drones would go after. One might get away.

Kass shuddered, her heart suddenly aching. One was better than none… it was always better than none, even though it tore them all up to even consider it.

The drones had not yet looked down (perhaps it was an exploitable weakness, she had to consider optimistically. She would mention that to Barns and Wheeljack when they were out of here.). Kass peered up at the ravine's edge to the hill they had climbed down. The ravine shielded them from the side the drones were on, but the moment they reached the hill (if they even got there), they'd be sitting ducks. Perhaps if Arcee transformed…? No, the bike would have to fight the uphill slope. They'd be outpaced in seconds. Going on foot would be just as deadly…

Barns nodded his head toward the slope, his jaw set. He wanted them to try. It was their only option. Kass shivered violently, trying not to throw up. If they could only—

Suddenly, a shrill, human scream from far away broke the silence. Kass flinched, expecting to be attacked, but the two drones in front of them shrieked and shot right over them. Cannon fire erupted soon after; the main group of drones had found the other survivors.

It wasn't the best solution, but it was something.

"Quick, while they're distracted," Kass hissed. She sat up and reached for the top of the ravine. There was no turning back now; they had to take the moment as a sign to get going.

Barns and Arcee got the same idea and scrambled to get out of the ditch as well. Kass could see the slope was devoid of any creature. The fighting was up at the camp. Wildrider's battle cry and the sound of Bluestreak's rifle filtered downward, with the occasional blast of a concussion weapon from one of the humans. Kass finally clawed her way up onto the ground and stumbled to her feet, her heart racing.

"Just go!" Arcee said, heaving her heavy body out of the ditch. "Do not stop, just go find the others!"

Feeling cold, Kass nodded and turned around. She set her sights on the top of the incline, where she knew the fighting was happening. They had to get up there and help.

Rushing forward, Kass tried to keep her eyes on everything as they ran, Arcee catching up quickly, even on the incline.

Barns' startled cry made Kass freeze up like ice. His arm shot out in front of her, halting her from moving forward. Kass almost wanted to ask what was wrong, but she didn't have to wait long to figure it out herself.

The tree next to her was a solid oak, but it couldn't hide the entire mass of the drone lurking behind it, the lethal appendages poised dangerously forward, ready to strike. The two humans stood there motionless and Kass found herself staring right into the face of one of her mortal enemies.

For a moment, not a single creature on that hill moved an inch. Kass felt a bead of sweat dribble down the back of her neck as she gazed up into that soulless red optic.

"Clever girl," Barns whispered, glaring at the drone with a mix of dislike and reluctant admiration. Kass had half a mind to smack him, but the terror of being pinned down there quickly overtook any other fleeting desires.

"RUN!" she shrieked, dodging to the side. She felt Barns rush after her; Arcee, limbs transforming instantly, roared her engine behind them. The drone shrieked and the sound of its metal limbs smacking together as it changed direction to chase them hurt Kass' ears.

She felt the air shift as a razor sharp tentacle whipped out just over her head. Gasping, Kass stumbled to the left, trying to get away. Barns shouted something, but everything faded as her lungs burned for more air and her adrenaline threatened to cause her heart to burst. The drone was so close; she could _feel_ it behind her.

 _This is how father must have died._

Kass felt her knees give out and she hit the ground rolling. The drone screeched. The whole world slowed down to that moment, with her heart in her throat, her body screaming for her to move, but her limbs lacked the energy.

Without any warning, the drone's shrieks were replaced by loud explosive sounds, from a cannon of all things. Kass grabbed onto a tree and hauled herself forward, the smell of fire and the sounds of fighting overtaking all her other senses. She had just enough time to look up to see the drone ripping away from her before Arcee reappeared in her line of sight, screeching in her own language, blasting the drone with several rapid blasts.

It slammed into the tree and rolled away. Arcee fired twice more, faceplates covered by her battle mask, but her optics contorted with a fierce glare. Turning quickly, the Autobot looked around for any more lurking enemies, but the fighting above was dying down as well. They had won another fight.

Barns, on shaky legs, walked toward Kass, helping her to her feet. Kass wanted to just curl up, or throw up, but she knew they had to regroup. Just in case.

She stood there, however, to look at the dead drone. She looked back up at Arcee, who looked ready to fire again at anything that came too close.

"N-nice shot," Kass stuttered, wide eyed. "Thank you."

Arcee inclined her head, never one to boast. "Let's go, we have to keep moving," she said stiffly.

Kass nodded and she found herself almost instinctually following the Transformer up the hill. They let her take the lead for that. Barns had to help Kass climb the hill partway; her nerves were just about ready to give up on her after that last encounter.

When they finally got to the top, Kass didn't know what to expect to see. Their worst fears were always the same between the eleven of them: to find one or more of their own dead. There were many drones and much of the camp had been laid to waste via the miniature battle… but there were eight standing there, turning to the three at the edge of the forest when Kass, Barns and Arcee emerged.

For just a moment, Kass' heart felt much, much lighter.

"There they are!" she heard someone shout. All of them immediately walked over to the three. Kass walked forward, feeling the need to sleep for the rest of the day. She doubted that would be an option.

Rachel met them halfway, looking a bit disheveled, but otherwise alright. "Did you guys run into them?" she asked, surprised.

"They had us pinned down for nearly twenty minutes!" Barns laughed. How he could laugh—though maybe it was from nerves—Kass had no idea.

Danny gawked. "That must have been scary," she noted, sympathetic.

Kass was in no mood for such honest sympathy. Her fear was rapidly turning into a monster headache. "No, it was a walk in the park. What do you think?" she snapped. She stomped past her, leaving the explanations to Arcee and Barns. "Goddamn drones!"

Bluestreak was immediately walking with her back toward the ruined campfire. "Are you okay, Kass?" he asked, earnest.

Sighing heavily, Kass knew she couldn't snap at him. He was the closet thing she had left to family. "I'm fine. Are you okay?" she asked, looking up at him. Bluestreak was so tall, well, at least compared to the humans, Jazz and Arcee.

The gunner smiled. "None of us were hurt," he said brightly. He sat down next to her as she attempted to salvage their pots and pans. Only the frying pan seemed to be dented. "I'm just so glad you, Barns and Arcee are okay. When the drones attacked and you guys weren't here, I was so afraid that you had gotten attacked, so I guess it's kinda good that you were stuck down there!"

He continued to ramble, letting Kass enjoy a moment of mundane comfort in her friend's mere presence. Yes, it had been a traumatizing ordeal, but they were all okay. No one had been injured and now, they were safe again. It was just another day, she had to reason.

Sighing again, Kass let Bluestreak ramble about the fight. If only this was guaranteed, that they could rest after each fight, to never have to worry about a burial instead.

Yes, she had to take incidents like these as blessings rather than a curse. She had to smile at herself for that; perhaps her mother's optimism was important to mimic. It might actually keep her sane…

"Kass…" Barns began, walking up to her. He trailed off for some reason.

"Yeah?" she answered absently. She glanced up to see Barns smiling sheepishly at her.

"We still need to do the dishes," he said, looking meek.

Kass stared at him… and then bent the fork within her fist.

 _Oh_ , she hated those stupid dishes.

 

 **End** _**Standing Still** _

_**Next** _ **: The survivors find something in the mountains…**


	25. Last Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _The Alps  
December 2053_

Winter was coming. The humans said they could feel it in their bones; such a strange, unreliable ability, but it never failed and the mechs had learned to trust it. Arcee could see it in the clouds anyway and in the weather. The early months of winter would be relatively mild, with brief storms that left light dustings of snow over their world. But in the middle of winter the storms would get violent and the snowfall would be heavy. At those times living without shelter was a death trap for the humans, and even the mechs would have difficulty moving on the rough terrain through the heavier snow. And finding food and organic material to convert to energon became an ordeal. For a while, in the early years, they had outlasted the storms by taking shelter in old barns or deep in the woods. But the Earth's climate had changed, and Earth was significantly colder now than it had been even a decade before. They tried to hold onto the hope that it was improving, but as thicker clouds were transported over the globe, the cold increased.

No one mentioned it. No one talked about it at all. That Earth… Earth was dying. It might come back someday, but not soon. Certainly not soon enough for the human members of their team. Arcee knew she would be forced to bury her human friends at the end of their incredibly shortened life spans in dirt polluted by the wastes of war. Perhaps she and her mech companions could outlast this nuclear winter and see the sun rise on a cleaner world. But the humans would not.

It wouldn't seem right, she told herself in secret as they made their way up a steep mountain path, with heavy, wet flakes of snow falling around them. It didn't seem right to live that long without the humans. She studied the humans in front of her as they stumbled up the path. Wheeljack said that before the war, humans in developed countries had lived into their eighties. But all of them knew that even with the help of the mechs, humans now were lucky to live more than half that span. Their humans were only in their twenties… but time fled quickly with things that mattered most. Her spark ached every time they mentioned their ages, or their health.

They would not be with them forever—and the end seemed to come faster every year.

Every winter made that clear, as the end of another year approached. The humans made no comment on the approaching signal of another year passing. They carried on, with smiles and laughter, as if they had no fear of death. It was remarkable. It was heartbreaking.

"How much further?" Bluestreak called from the back. The winds were picking up and the snowfall increasing as they trekked further into the mountain's peaks.

"That map showed a big cavern up toward th' top'a th' ridge," Jazz replied, pointing upward. "About another hundred yards an' we should be right on it."

Arcee had a hard time keeping traction on the steep dirt that was rapidly turning to a slushy mud, but she fought hard to reach their goal without the aid of another mech. As much as they had each other, Arcee had to be able to rely on herself as well. The others agreed all too well with that sentiment.

They were going to do what they had done every winter over the past decade. They would spend the short summer using old human maps (pilfered from museums and government buildings) to locate out of the way caves where they could outlast the worst of the weather and put up with the remaining snow until spring. They couldn't stay for too long, but the drones weren't very active in the poor weather either. For the last decade or so, it had worked out for them. It was just the start to another long, cold winter.

When they finally reached the outcropping, the snow was beginning to really pick up. The humans huddled together and quickly urged their companions into the cave. The mechs always went into a new area first, just in case. Headlights on in the dim environment, they rolled or walked in.

The cave was gigantic. The humans gasped as they made their way into the cave and the mechs lit up the farther recesses of the cavern, where even bright summer sun couldn't have reached. There were a few stalactites, but most of the cave was just uneven rock. The entrance was small, making it necessary for Thundercracker and Wheeljack to stoop lowly, but that was misleading. The main part of the cavern was tall enough for both mechs to stand upright and extended deep into the mountain.

For the humans, the place must have truly been colossal. "Oh, _wow_ , 'Jack, you were right. This place is huge!" Rachel cried, her voice echoing across the rock enclosure. She grinned over at their tallest member, Thundercracker. "Ha, you can even stand upright, TC."

The jet made a face. "Joy." Jazz laughed and walked past him, shaking his head.

"It's not even that claustrophobic," Danny commented brightly as she shook snow off of her hat.

Vortex shuddered. "Easy for you to say." Rachel laughed.

The humans began to dump their supplies against the wall. Arcee noted there was plenty of room for a fire. They probably would not set up camp so close to the entrance, just to make sure it wasn't too obvious from the outside they were there. She was amazed at the height of the room, which allowed their larger companions to stand comfortably upright. Earth truly had interesting geological formations. Arcee smiled to herself as her companions explored further back. She was certain one of her old teammates, Hound, would have appreciated this place a lot.

So many lost opportunities. Arcee sighed, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

Bluestreak had followed Jazz over to one of the back walls of the cave. "Primus… this thing goes back for a while, doesn't it?" he exclaimed. Arcee turned to see what he meant.

Toward the back was the yawning, black entrance to a passageway leading deeper into the mountain. Arcee rolled closer, surprised.

Jazz had moved to the mouth of the passageway, curious. "Yeah… look at this, guys," the silver mech said, pointing. He shined his headlights down the long, dark passage, the shadows contorting deeper on his face as he frowned. "It must go on fer a least a few hundred feet. Can't even see the end."

Always curious, the group moved over to where the two mechs stood. "Natural passage?" Wheeljack asked, peering into the darkness.

"No…" Jazz began. He paused. "Wait…" He moved over and touched the wall of the passageway, tilting his head in curious interest. "Look at th' walls."

Arcee peered at where he was pointing; the walls were very squared off. "They're uniform," Kass noted, sounding surprised. "Strange."

"Manmade? This far up in th' mountains?" Jazz asked, incredulous. Vortex shrugged.

Barns frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Even the military map said that this cave was just used for recreation."

Danny walked up bravely, grinning up at the mechs. "Let's go exploring then!" she said.

"You hate the dark," Barns countered, smiling wryly.

"We have lights, so it's okay," the woman replied confidently.

Wildrider chuckled and crouched so he could poke the human femme. "You can be bear bait, yes?" he said. The other humans burst out laughing and Danny huffed, immediately descending into an argument defending the potential bear—

Arcee tensed when she saw Jazz suddenly freeze in the middle of the passageway's entrance. "Wait." Everyone seemed to pause, uncertain over his abrupt wary tone.

"What?" Thundercracker asked, peering around his smaller mate. The mere fact that the Decepticon jet could fit in the passageway was eerie; it seemed vast.

"Look down," Jazz instructed. He pointed at the sides of the cave walls, suddenly alarmed. "You see those?"

Barns had moved closer and stared at where the mech was pointing his headlights. The shadows contorted a lot of the details of the cave, but… "Wires?" Barns asked, surprised. Arcee could see thick cables running along the edges of the cave floor, extending off into the black distance.

"Cables. Power cables." Jazz turned to face the dark passageway. His voice turned cold. "This cave's been inhabited."

It didn't take much to startle any of them. The cavern was immediately filled with the buzz and whirl of battle systems activating and cannons triggering. The humans took several steps back, behind the mechs, already reaching for their own weapons.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit, do you think drones?" Rachel asked, eyes wider. She had her concussion blaster out, tense as a coil.

Shaking his head, Jazz moved forward a little into the mouth of the cave. He did take out his arm cannon, however. "I haven't seen anything like this in a long time. Could be an unmarked human installation," he replied.

Arcee sent him a look, alarmed. "Do we really want to risk it?"

"What if they have stuff we could use?" Vortex countered. He gestured into the darkness. "I mean, slag, maybe someone is still here!"

Wheeljack had crouched by the wall and was inspecting the wires. They were old, wherever the cables had originated from, "It looks like a military base," he said suddenly. "These are Earth-made cables, judging by the exteriors."

"True…" Jazz tilted his head. "It doesn't look inhabited now."

"Yes. It is most likely abandoned," Barns offered. He peered around Thundercracker, looking nervous. "Still… be on alert. Anything could be in here."

Arcee did not want to go any further into the cave network. Barns was quite right to suggest they could run into anything; wild animals could be just as threatening as drones. But the manmade nature of the cave was far more alarming than any natural threat. She had never heard or seen drones making a base of operations, but then again, they knew next to nothing of their enemies.

Perhaps it had been a military base at one point, she reasoned. As they moved along in the darkness (Kass clinging to Bluestreak and Danny refusing to leave Wheeljack's side due to her fear of the dark), the cables continued seemingly endlessly alongside them. There were fuse boxes along the way as well, at regular intervals, indicating a deliberation of purpose to the cave. The mud and dirt caked onto the cables indicated they had been laid quite a while ago; Wheeljack was right, it did look like an abandoned base. For whom, they didn't know.

The straight passage kept going for several hundred meters. They passed an indentation in the side of the passage that looked like the beginnings of another room, partially hewn out of the rock. The cables kept going and the walls took on more precise shapes now. It was clearly crafted.

The caves were as silent as death. There weren't even any drips from stalactites. There was no running water. The wind did not reach the curved path of the cave passageway, so only the mech and human group's footsteps and clanking limbs made any real sign of life. Arcee rolled along, her battle programming ready to react at the least moment's notice. She did not trust the caves nor the circumstances.

For a while, Arcee was expecting that the passage would lead to another cavern. That was why it was alarming that they ultimately ran into a fork in the path. They stood there, gawking at the two diverging paths.

"How complex is this place?" Rachel whispered. Her voice carried softly into the abyss.

"I want to leave," Danny whispered, sounding frightened.

Jazz seemed possessed, however; Arcee watched him look back and forth between the two paths. "Maybe a bit further. Left seems more developed," he muttered. Even with their combined headlights, the path was only clear for a few meters ahead. It was so dark.

Wheeljack decided to stay back with the humans and Bluestreak while the others moved forward to the left. Arcee tried to see if there were any other figures ahead, either dead or alive, but it was impossible to—

The light from their headlights finally hit something. It was a door. All the mechs and Arcee froze. It appeared to have been two sliding doors at one point, with the rusting remains now only partially closed. It was pitch black inside, from what they could tell. The doors looked like they could be forced open.

"Stay back," Jazz warned, waving his hand behind him. "'Rider, back me up, mech."

Wildrider nodded and pushed past the others. Both mechs stepped further into the passageway, taking the lead by several yards. There was no telling what could be lurking in there. Wildrider had an unnaturally keen sensory array; Arcee grudgingly had to give him credit and admit that he would be a better choice to lead the way into an unknown situation. Then again, he was also insane. She hoped both mechs would be able to react quickly enough to any ambush or surprise attack if the worst happened.

Thundercracker stood ready to attack if need be, his cannons charging. Jazz and Wildrider each took a side door and yanked it back. The creaking metal seemed unnaturally loud in the empty mountain hideaway and Arcee cringed.

Wildrider stood back, but Jazz moved to the center of the doorway, peering in. The lights from his chestplates flooded the new room, but Arcee couldn't see that well. She dared to move forward, hesitant. Jazz leaned in, but—

"Wha…"

Jazz trailed off, but the surprise in his voice was enough to be a shout. Everyone tried to move forward then, to see what he was looking at. Even Wildrider had frozen in his spot, gazing into the room with an astonished, awe-filled expression. Jazz drew back, visor wide, a look of uncertainty twisting his faceplates.

"Holy slag… _what_ is all _this_? !"

 **0000**

Fire crackling in the furthest corner, Danny observed the main part of the cave they would camp in for the next few weeks. It was damp and cold, but that was about average. It wasn't as rocky as the one they had stayed in last year, however. This one had been hollowed out by much more than wind and water, and long before they had come along.

They had not been the first ones here.

What Jazz and Wildrider had found had stunned them all. There were machines. Electrical equipment. Computers. The room they had discovered first had been a control room, Wheeljack said. It was huge. Danny had never seen such a large, furnished room. It was full of machines and tall computers. Huge monitors, as Barns called them, lined one wall. Everything was caked with dust and grime. Exploring gave them no real clue as to what the purpose of the lab was.

But it wasn't ancient. Danny suspected it had been an old world computer center. But Kass and Wheeljack noticed something about the room no one else did.

"Autobots worked here," the scientist had said, his voice quiet. In the deafening silence of this mysterious hideaway everyone froze, as if he had shouted.

Jazz turned to Wheeljack, stunned. "What?" he had asked. His incredulous shock was mirror on everyone's face or faceplates.

Wheeljack, crouched in front of one of the workstations, was looking at the large devices strewn about. "…This is only a few decades old at most," he said quietly still, optics and earfins blazing. He held up a flat black object, quite like a book. "A datapad. The size alone indicates it was not for human use. Probably another team, a science team. Trying to fight the drones…"

Arcee had heard that the Autobots had been trying to regroup shortly after the human governments fell; Wheeljack had been in one of those groups too, but they had all failed, lost contact and become scattered. Danny had walked closer to Wheeljack, watching her guardian's face contort with amazement and awe.

"This doesn't seem like drone-fighting stuff though," Kass had replied, frowning. She pointed at a bunch of tall tanks in the corner. They had set up dozens of torches through the caves, so they had much better visibility now. "These look like engines."

Wheeljack was still looking at the smaller devices. "They are." He stood, placing the device down. He gazed around, strangely tense. "It's strange. It will take me some time to figure it out."

None of them were feeling easy after all of their discoveries. Jazz nodded. "Well, ya have till th' end'o winter," he had said, motioning toward the blast doors they had forced open. "Let's set up camp an' explore a bit later."

Settled in the inner cavern, away from the machines, the majority of the group made a semi-permanent camp. The humans prepared their food and sleeping arrangements, settling in for another long, cold winter. Absently organizing their canned goods, Danny watched the fire, the dancing flames capturing her eyes, but her mind was far, far away. Something felt weird about the cave, about the machines. It almost made her think of the empty cities they walked through, without the interesting side-attractions to distract her from the grim reality.

This had been someone's home… and then their tomb.

Whatever the mechs or human scientists had been working on failed, quite obviously. The drones kept coming and Earth continued to fall prey to a deadly repetitive cycle of cold weather. Danny almost didn't want to know what the laboratory had been designed to do. Wheeljack was not overly excited, but she didn't want him or any of the others to get wrapped up in something that could easily let their hopes down.

Sighing, she stood and walked through the dark, creepy cave passageway. She carried a torch with her to light the way, but Danny was still scared to remain in the corridor for too long. The fork in the path was caved in on the right side, apparently having been housing for the Autobots working there. It seemed likely they had been attacked by the drones. The left side, the lab side, was much cleaner. They had left the blast doors open, so she could easily walk in alone.

The room was strange. There was a huge desk in the center of the room, but what dominated the lab was a huge white platform toward the back of the room. Barns said it looked like a science examination dish, but it was large enough for even Thundercracker to stand in. It was weird. All around the dish were engines and more towers of metal and computers. Danny had no idea what it all meant or what it would do, and neither did Wheeljack. She found her guardian hunched over a table, tinkering with one of the computers. It was actually on, due to Wheeljack's assiduous curiosity.

"We're going to bed soon," she announced. Wheeljack made a sound of acknowledgement, but didn't turn. Sighing, Danny walked over to the table and almost instinctually, he bent down to pick her up and then placed her on the table.

"What are you working on?" she asked quietly, peering around at the table. It was surreal to be on a piece of furniture large enough to be a stage. "Did you find anything?"

Wheeljack placed the device he was holding down onto the tabletop, glancing at her. The look in his optic bothered her. The silence in the cave was only punctuated every so often by an echoing sound by the others in the main cavern.

"…Perceptor was here," Wheeljack said at great length.

Danny looked at him. "What?" she asked, startled. "Who was Perceptor?" The name sounded familiar, but…

Wheeljack's earfins glowed softly and he canted his head down at the computer. "My friend and fellow scientist. I thought he had fallen in Lisboa along with the rest of the base. Apparently, he escaped just as I did." Sighing, Wheeljack gestured at the room. "He came here, with others… to do this. Whatever it was."

"How… how do you know he was here?" she asked, watching him with interest.

Danny knew she had said something wrong when Wheeljack froze and slowly shook his head. "Mech remains do not expire in the ways human remains do," he said carefully. He lifted his head, staring at the back of the room, where there was apparently an adjacent closet-like room. He had told her not to go in there earlier.

 _This place was also their tomb._

Whether it was by the drones, or just through lack of sustenance… the mechs who worked here had either died or had given up and moved on. Obviously, Wheeljack had found his friend and learned of his death.

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered, her heart aching for her guardian. She walked over and reached out for his hand, which hung by the edge of the table. "You okay?"

Wheeljack glanced down at her and his optics squinted, like he was smiling. "I had already believed he was dead. It was not a shock," he said, sounding honest. "It does bring up difficult memories, but…" Wheeljack sighed again and gazed out forlornly at the machines that took over the majority of the room. "What _was_ he working on? Such designs and progress… they must have been working like madmen to complete it. Whatever it was."

"You don't recognize it at all?" Danny asked, looking up at the computer monitor. It was black and had a large crack on the side. She had no idea if they could ever figure out what it was all for without the machines working.

"No. I have never seen designs like these before," the scientist replied, shaking his helm. "I am still looking through the schematics. I should also attempt to uplink to their main computer."

Danny frowned. "Does it even have power?" This place was in no way in working condition.

"Yes. They have several generators in the back room," Wheeljack replied, pointing behind them. "Not enough to get the machine operational, however."

"Good," Vortex muttered outside the door, having walked up only moments before. "With our luck, it's a death ray."

Danny laughed and Wheeljack chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps it is a weapon," the scientist agreed, gazing around the room, distracted again. "I shall endeavor to find out."

 **0000**

Jazz wasn't quite sure where this was going to go. They had done this countless times, hiding in caverns to hold out during the coldest times of the year. It was a tense and scary few weeks; memory of Kass's camp was always a prominent thing on their minds. Getting caught inside the cavern, no matter how large, would be disastrous.

But it was necessary. The humans could not survive out in the open, and the mechs would also have a difficult time functioning correctly in such cold weather. The snow seemed to get worse every year. It had been four years since their current Bluestreak and Kass joined them. It had only been a year since they had changed their optics. Things were… fine. No one was sick or terribly out of shape. Food was becoming scarce, especially in the winter, but they had prepared, as always, for the shortages.

Sitting there in the cave, however, was never easy to do. They tried to talk their uneasiness away, chatting like they normally did, or they played games, or just tried to make a home out of their aberrant place of rest. It never shook the feeling of being trapped. Or the sense that they were slowly running out of time. Next winter, they might not have had enough food. Heck, they might run out of it this time, too, even the mechs.

With every year that passed, they were forced to realize that _yes_ , this could be their last.

Green visor glowing and casting eerie shadows over the walls of the poorly lit cave walls, Jazz couldn't help but think those thoughts, even if they were grim. He tried… he tried, just like the rest of them, to be positive. It wasn't easy. Some days, it was downright impossible.

He still smiled at his friends when he saw them, nodding to Barns and Arcee as he made his way back to the "Lab" as they were calling it now. Wheeljack was almost self-confined to that place, Jazz thought with a mental frown. Danny claimed it was because he was just curious about what his dead friend had been doing. Jazz could understand that, and surprisingly, the others kept away too, leaving the scientist to his work. Wildrider especially had seemed reluctant to go into the room. He called it "creepy," which had made the others laugh, but for _Wildrider_ of all mechs to be disturbed by something… yeah, Jazz wasn't too keen on going into the back of the caves. Human aversion to walking on graves was contagious to the psyche.

Jazz found Wheeljack where he always was: hunched over a table, tinkering with the consoles or the datapads. They were the only things he had been able to turn on. The engines and main computers were still off-limits.

"How are we going to power these things?" Jazz asked, conversationally. He really hoped the scientist wasn't going to try to use their reserves to operate the machines. That would be really, really stupid.

"That will be a problem, but a lot of these engines do have the potential to work. They're connected to solar arrays higher up on the mountain according to this one datapad…" Wheeljack sighed, stepping back a little in frustration. "But these others appear to be connected to some other power converter. I haven't figured out what is powering it though. They never completed the power connectors."

Jazz stared at the line of consoles, debating on how to answer. "…I guess connectin' them wouldn't be such a good idea, huh?" he asked, smiling wryly at the other mech. "We dunno what it's connected to."

Don't go blowing us all up, was the subtle message. Wheeljack got it, thankfully. "Until we do, it would be unwise to attempt it. Who knows if the power source is stable?" he asked, green optics crinkling as he smiled for what Jazz thought was the first time in days.

"True, true…" Jazz chuckled. He reached over and gripped Wheeljack's arm, causing the larger mech to look at him. "Hey, 'Jack, don't get too wrapped up in this, ya know? If we find out, we find out. We're going to have t' leave at the end of the storms, anyway."

Wheeljack nodded, but he looked saddened. "I know." He sighed and turned back to the computer, gesturing weakly. "Perceptor… he was not like me – he wouldn't place his hopes or energy into a project unless it was truly plausible or useful. If he put this much work into something, surely it must have been important."

Hope was important to all of them. Jazz could easily relate to not wanting to waste it. "Well, if ya figure it out, lemme know," he said, smiling. He left the scientist to his quest, not really letting himself get too excited. Wheeljack was brilliant, but some problems no one could solve.

Three days later Jazz realized how much he'd underestimated Wheeljack's persistent curiosity and genius. By re-routing his own energy reserves to power a computer console (Jazz promptly slapped him for wasting the fuel), he had been able to access informative data concerning the actual lab itself. Jazz had stopped by again, to give Wheeljack an energon ration, and to make sure the mech wasn't driving himself into spark failure; he wasn't sleeping much.

"These are the tallest mountains in the world… of course!" Wheeljack exclaimed, startling Jazz form his reclining position on one of the tables. Earfins flashing, Wheeljack motioning excitedly at the console. "There are wind turbines all over the mountain, Jazz. That, plus solar arrays on the very peaks of the mountains, above a lot of the clouds… They got so close to actually perfecting this!"

Whatever 'this' was, Jazz had no clue, but he couldn't help but be a little impressed. "It's been runnin' all this time?" he asked, sitting upright. What if they could use it? Even if it was just while they were there, that would be an enormous morale booster. "Man, that sucks fer them, though. All th' power that's been generated… it couldn't have gone anywhere useful, right?"

Wheeljack was talking erratically, but he was also still monitoring the data feed on the hacked-console. He had been talking excitedly about the wind turbines, but when he stopped abruptly, Jazz turned to face him. The scientist was standing there, optics huge, gazing down at the screen. Jazz moved closer, curious.

"…It's been… what?" Wheeljack muttered. He sounded awed. "Oh, my."

Jazz frowned. "What, 'Jack?"

"They've been storing the energy in a cavern below this one, Jazz!" Wheeljack cried. He sounded elated. "If I reset the cables, I could definitely power this up. According to these figures… at least two decades worth of power has been stored!"

Two… _decades_? Jazz stared, astonished. They'd designed storage for two decades worth of power? That was a lot of power. Like… _a lot_ a lot of power. What the frag were they trying to run?

"Are you serious? Primus!" he laughed. He leaned closer, trying to read the console, but most of it was alien code; scientists had their own cyphertext. "D'ya think they actually managed to do anything with this stuff, b'fore they died?"

Wheeljack shook his helm. "I have no idea. I'm going to get the other consoles up and running as soon as I can. They must have left clues!"

He seemed so excited. Jazz smiled, mostly because he knew it was going to keep Wheeljack and Barns (who was drawn to the lab like a moth to a flame, as Kass kept saying) happy for a while, to discover the mystery of what the Autobot team had been working on. Jazz was more interested in finding a way to use the stored energy for themselves, but he was willing to let Wheeljack have his fun. They didn't need the resources yet, but he'd keep the location marked in his very-outdated GPS map. They might need it in the future.

The third time Jazz returned to the Lab, the humans were asleep, Arcee and Vortex were on guard duty, and Wheeljack had yet again missed refueling. Jazz had expected he was going to have to lecture their scientist friend for placing his curiosity before his own health.

He was _not_ expecting to walk in and see dozens of computer screens gleaming in the darkness, the overhead lights of the Lab actually turned on.

"You got it to work! Congrats!" Jazz exclaimed, excited. He walked over, looking at the strangely bright room. The color of fluorescent lighting was strangely nostalgic. "Way to go, 'Jack!"

Wheeljack said nothing, not even as Jazz walked up behind him. He seemed entirely focused on the monitor, though Jazz couldn't blame him. Wheeljack did get wrapped up in his work.

Jazz opened his mouth to say more, to ask what discoveries he had made, but the look on Wheeljack's face stopped him. The scientist was not joyful, not excited.

The look on his face was a combination of stunned speechlessness and horror.

"What's wrong?" Jazz asked, shocked. "What'd ya find?" He doubted anything a group of Autobot scientists could come up could really be that shocking. Unless they had been wrong about who designed the Lab…

Wheeljack shook his head and leaned into the monitor, reading what Jazz presumed to be the source of Wheeljack's astonishment. Jazz hung back, feeling very uneasy. Wheeljack just kept reading, ignoring his companion and Jazz waited silently. He wasn't sure what was so intriguing, but he knew it had to be important. He had never seen the other mech get so… tense.

The silence hung for a long time. Jazz shifted, watching Wheeljack carefully—until the larger mech suddenly froze.

"Oh, my God," he said, the data streaming endlessly across the screen, flashing and casting shadows across his masked face.

The coldness in his voice and the utter speechless that followed his declaration made Jazz feel immensely uneasy. "'Jack?" he asked, stepping closer.

Wheeljack turned and looked at Jazz, breaking connection with the console. It wasn't just a stare—it was a look that pierced Jazz's spark. The scientist just stood there, optics huge, and Jazz almost wanted to ask what was wrong. He didn't know if it was safe to break Wheeljack's reverie, however.

Wheeljack trembled, just once. Jazz waited, his spark twisting.

"What is it, Wheeljack?" he asked finally, feeling terribly uneasy.

The scientist finally looked to the side. When he spoke, he sounded far, far away.

"Go get the others."

 **0000**

The first thing Barns felt was Danny shaking his shoulder roughly. Blearily, he sat up, knowing it was way too early for them to be awake judging by his exhaustion and the fact the fire was still burning. Danny was too calm for it to be an attack, however.

"What's going on?" he asked, mumbling sleepily. He wanted to re-bury his head in his worn sleeping bag; it was so cold…

Danny didn't let him fall back asleep. "Jazz wants everyone up," she said, sounding serious. "Wheeljack found something in the Lab."

Barns woke up rather quickly at _that_ statement. He hadn't been able to do much yet, because until now Wheeljack hadn't found a way for them to get into the alien systems located in the Lab. He wanted to figure it out just as much as Wheeljack did, perhaps for other reasons, but still. The only thing he had been able to do was help the scientist repair cables, though Kass was more useful in that end. Their team effort must have paid off, if Wheeljack had an announcement to make now!

Excited, Barns quickly yanked off his blankets and hurried over to where Jazz was, Wheeljack lumbering out of the darkness of the inner corridor that led from the Lab. It seemed extraordinarily bright down there, however.

"The lights are working!" Bluestreak said, surprised as they peered into the passageway. Wheeljack ignored them, suddenly pacing furiously in front of the hallway entrance. That was odd, Barns noted.

Jazz waved his hands, gathering up the group's attention. "Wheeljack got th' computers workin'," he said, sounding tense. He glanced over at Wheeljack, obviously just as out of the loop as Barns and the rest were. "He found somethin' on th' machine, but he wanted everyone t'gether b'fore he said anythin'."

Rachel snorted. " _That's_ kind of ominous."

"What was it?" Kass asked, curiosity replacing the mild irritation she had been wearing earlier after being wakened so rudely.

Wheeljack stopped to look at her, but immediately turned away again, agitated. Barns frowned deeply and suddenly, everyone seemed aware of the scientist's strange behavior.

"Wheeljack?" Arcee questioned, sounding concerned. She rolled forward, tilting her head at the taller mech.

Whatever he had found was clearly not easy for Wheeljack to say. Barns had never seen the scientist so… so… unnerved. He kept pacing, caught up in some internal debate over when to speak, because he seemed like he wanted to say something, but caught himself every time. Barns glanced over at Jazz and then Thundercracker, but neither mech seemed to have a clue either.

Freezing up, Wheeljack spun on his pedes and stared at them all, first up at the taller ones and then down at the smaller. "Everyone… I…" he began, but then faltered. He drew back and then began to pace again, but this time, he spoke as he moved. "I have finally gotten the machines to work. It will take some time to get the cables set up correctly again and repair the damages to the other machines, but I could very well have all the devices up and running in two months if we—!"

Jazz broke into his rambling speech, alarmed. "Whoa, there, 'Jack!" he exclaimed, a mixture of annoyance and fear in his voice and expression. Thundercracker also looked irritated. "I told ya not t' get so wrapped up in it. We'd have to leave by then."

The pacing never stopped. "Jazz, you don't understand…!" Wheeljack pleaded, hand plastered to the top of his helm. His agitation only grew. "We can't just _leave_! This is… this…!"

"Wheeljack. What did you find?" Danny demanded, now sounding alarmed.

Perhaps it was the sound of his daughter speaking, but her query made Wheeljack stop his pacing. He stood there and then faced the others, green optics wider than ever, his earfins blazing with erratic emotion. He just stood there, staring.

Barns wasn't quite sure what was going through his processors at that moment; probably many, many things.

In hindsight, Barns was very certain what had happened within that moment of hesitation. _Oh, je regrette ce jour-là._

The moment passed. Wheeljack stood up straighter, shaking, but a new seriousness took hold of him. "It's…" the scientist started, but failed. Everyone looked at him, waiting.

"It's what?" Barns prompted, an ill feeling fluttering in his gut. It was an unhealthy dose of adrenaline, though it hardly seemed the moment to be excited. "What is it, 'Jack?"

Wheeljack seemed to shrink back, bracing himself. Barns stared back, not sure if he really wanted an answer now.

And then, something flickered in Wheeljack's optics. A brief, almost indistinguishable emotion that made Barns think of hope.

In one of the rare moments Barns had known him, Wheeljack removed his mask; it retracted back into his helm soundlessly. His mouth added an uneven, unnatural look to his face, which they had all grown used to seeing half-covered.

Wheeljack smiled, the gesture so fragile, it didn't seem real.

"It's… a space bridge."

 

 **End** _**Last Hope** _ **, to be continued in** _**Fortitude** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Sometimes, drones are the least the humans have to worry about. Other humans—and their more universal problems—can be just as deadly.**

 


	26. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Western Czech Republic  
July 2052_

They didn't go to camps often. Over the years, as humans as a species were killed off by drones, famine and illness, the camps became rarer and rarer. The humans in their own group did enjoy visiting camps whenever possible, to see more of their own kind and to exchange information about drone sightings. Jazz didn't mind stopping at camps, to meet other humans and hear the latest news. Thundercracker teased him that he was unable to subvert his core wartime programming as an agent of espionage. Sometimes, they were able to visit the same camp more than once, just by accident. It was always a pleasant sight to see a familiar face when familiarity was almost an ancient concept for their species.

Others in their group, however, were not that excited about visits to the human camps. Vortex distrusted most of Earth's natives (at least the ones he already knew weren't overly disgusting or dangerous). Bluestreak also was wary of letting their humans mingle with other humans, which surprised Jazz. The younger mech always claimed that he was just worried that those unknown humans could somehow harm their humans, but Jazz had a feeling it was more that Bluestreak, who was so attached to the humans, was a little jealous to see them interacting so cheerfully with those "aliens." Wildrider was always bi-polar with his feelings, but sometimes he also reacted aggressively when they stayed too long in a camp.

It was a beautiful and relatively uneventful day when they met up with a group of humans they had never met before. It was a smaller camp, but the people were extraordinarily friendly, and some older humans had even seen mechs before. They usually didn't stay for long; conversations were had, information and supplies exchanged, and the groups would travel on in their original trajectories. This visit was no different – Jazz was talking to the human leaders along with Arcee and Wheeljack, while Thundercracker amused himself watching the children of the camp skitter warily around them, their eyes wide. Scowling openly, Vortex and Bluestreak hung back. Strangely, their dislike of camps was the only thing they could really share as comrades, Jazz thought, amused at the vagaries of his friends.

The humans generally spent as much time as possible talking with as many other humans as possible. Danny and Barns, especially, loved meeting and talking to other humans, and it was always difficult to get them to say goodbye. After waiting impatiently for the bartering to be concluded, the mechs in question finally pestered the humans into leaving in time to make it to their planned evening campsite. Although most of them wanted to stay, Jazz knew that spending the night was a bad idea; the camp was far too exposed in an open field. So their small group of eleven survivors said their goodbyes and went on their way.

The next morning, Jazz hadn't been expecting to see anything wrong. They had had a rather peaceful week overall, with very little excitement beyond the camp visit of the day before; there hadn't been any drone attacks or arguments between their friends recently either. His internal alarms warning him that it was dawn, Jazz onlined to another beautiful summer sunrise to find a normal camp scene: humans bundled together by the extinguished fire, Thundercracker sitting upright next to him and the other mechs and Arcee either parked or reclining around the small forest glade they had chosen last night.

"Morning," he said quietly to Thundercracker, who answered back similarly. Both stood and the others began to stir, alarms going off for all of them. Arcee and Bluestreak were still recharging, but they had been on watch duty last night so they would generally be given a few more minutes to rest. It was just a normal morning.

"We'll plan to start in an hour, okay?" Jazz said loudly. The others murmured in agreement. He had already fueled the night before, so he skipped going over to Wheeljack and the converter, and decided to take on another chore: waking the humans.

There was a running joke, at least among the Transformers, about the lack of innate tools the humans had. They were very much reliant on exterior tools and supplies to know the temperature, or the date, or even the time of day. It wasn't their fault, of course, but Jazz didn't mind teasing them on occasion. The mechs had ended up being the humans' weather station, calendar and morning alarm clock. Even Arcee sometimes poked fun at their lack of technological enhancements, but everyone knew it was a joke.

"Alrighty, time to get up, folks," he announced grandly as he walked up to the humans. In the early days, he'd felt guilty for making the exhausted humans get up when they all needed rest, but it was part of their schedule and had to be done. He still had to pry them out of their bedrolls with a crowbar, but he felt a lot less guilt about it.

Barns muttered something incoherent, but didn't sit up. Jazz shook his helm and waited patiently, just to make sure. Danny was notorious for going back to sleep, or in the event they physically tried to take her blankets from her, she would steal someone else's. It was comical, but time-consuming. Rachel and Kass were much easier to rouse, and he counted on them to get the other two up.

Jazz stood there for a good two minutes, his amusement slowly fading as he realized none of the humans were getting up. Danny hadn't moved and the others seemed intent on ignoring him completely.

"Come on, y'all, up an' at 'em," he said, jokingly.

Still, none of them moved. Jazz frowned and glanced over at Thundercracker, who was busy getting energon. None of the other mechs seemed to have noticed yet. Turning around, Jazz stared down at the humans and for the first time felt a little worried. The kids could be stubborn, but they were usually not this bad.

He crouched carefully by Rachel. He reached out and poked the woman gently. She groaned and swatted his hand away. She burrowed deeper under the blanket and refused to budge.

Jazz stared, confused. "Hey… what's wrong?" he asked, now feeling a little uneasy. "Why aren't you guys getting up?" Getting up at this time wasn't new; this had been their schedule for Primus knew how long. Generally they were all up and doing chores within a few minutes of being awakened.

Rachel moved the blanket enough to flash an eye at him. "I feel like shit." She never was one to be subtle. She disappeared back under the covers after that.

Illness, regardless, was not something to underestimate. "A stomach ache?" he asked, skillfully hiding his nervousness. Rachel had never been _really_ sick before, other than monthly-woes ( _ohPrimusbadmemories_ ) and the occasional cough. None of the humans had ever been seriously ill before.

"Everything aches," she muttered. She didn't resurface from under the blanket again. Jazz stood there, frowning.

"Rachel, we gotta get going. Day's a-wastin'."

"Ugh."

The silence that followed told him that he wasn't going to get a clearer answer. Jazz considered the idea that the four were being lazy, but then conceded that maybe Rachel did feel sicker than normal. He activated his thermographic camera. It was overkill to use it for this purpose, but it wasn't like any of them were medics. Even Wheeljack had problems using his advanced tools on their smaller organic friends.

Jazz focused on Rachel and to his mild horror, he realized that _maybe_ , this was serious.

"Rachel… your temperature is a hundred and one!" he exclaimed, flinching back. Oh, _Primus_ , that was bad. That was very, very bad.

Rachel didn't move, but she eloquently stated, "Fuck."

Jazz peered over at the bunched up humans, who all seemed to have the same lethargy and now that he was focusing, they all appeared to be giving off an abnormal amount of heat. "Wait, are _all_ of ya sick?" he asked, shocked.

Kass stuck a hand out and weakly flipped him off. Barns glanced up out of the blankets, the conversation getting his attention. He had a glass-eyed look and if Jazz's measurements were correct, he had a fever as well. Where the slag did they get that sort of illness from? It was summer! It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been before during the early spring.

"I didn't feel well last night," Barns said hoarsely. "Danny said she wasn't feeling good either."

"Slag. Slag…" Jazz stood, alarmed. He tried to keep his panic controlled, however; freaking out would do nothing. Sickness was dangerous, perhaps just as dangerous as confronting drones sometimes. It wore them down physically, slowed them down, weakened morale—it could even be fatal if it was untreatable.

"Is it a cold? How do you feel?" They had had colds in past. Just never with a higher fever; that was new. And they'd never all been so ill at the same time. Probably…

"Headache and chills," muttered Barns. "And sick to my stomach."

"One of th' campers said they had a bug goin' through th' camp," Rachel slurred, confirming his thoughts. She gripped her head, grimacing. "Horrible goddamn luck."

That made sense. Jazz wilted in relief, realizing it was probably just the flu. He had heard of the flu before. That made sense. He had expected diseases like that to fade out with the loss of major civilizations, but it wasn't impossible. The flu, he could understand and handle.

"Hold on, I gotta go get Wheeljack," he said, turning. From what he remembered humans saying, the flu wasn't deadly as long as it was handled carefully. It was warm out and they had supplies… Jazz prayed that he was correct about this.

He walked quickly back toward the other Transformers. Thundercracker had finally seen Jazz and probably saw the distress etched into his expression.

"What's wrong?" the jet demanded immediately. Jazz waved his clawed hand, focusing on Wheeljack instead.

"Wheeljack? Hey, I gotta talk t' ya," he said, leaning closer. The other mechs were very close. Arcee and Bluestreak were still recharging. Wildrider was drinking his energon ration, but now seemed focused on listening into the conversation. Just great.

Wheeljack turned and then immediately peered past Jazz, surprised. "Where are the humans? Aren't they up yet?" he asked.

Jazz hesitated, only because now everyone that was awake was listening in. He didn't really want to turn this into a chaotic mess, but they didn't have the time to speak carefully around their more sensitive members. "They're sick, 'Jack," he said plainly, gesturing to the humans, where Rachel and Kass were watching the mechs with illness-dulled expressions.

"…They're…what?" Wheeljack repeated, stunned. It seemed like Jazz's words made his processors stumble. "Like a cold?"

"They got a virus," Jazz replied, shaking his helm.

Well, that could have been dealt with more carefully, Jazz realized in hindsight. Wheeljack physically jerked upright, looking aghast, earfins blazing. Wildrider stopped completely and was giving Jazz a look he could only translate as horror. Vortex just looked intrigued and Thundercracker had turned around so slowly, Jazz almost wanted to laugh at his alarmed expression. Bluestreak and Arcee were still recharging, or so he had thought.

"Virus?" Wheeljack repeated, voice growing louder. "As in, a system corruption? !"

"Virus?" Wildrider added, creeping closer, dropping his cube of energon now. He peered past Jazz, optics huge. "…Vhat? Vhat does that mean? Squishies get viruses? Vhere? Vhere do they—?"

"They have a virus?" Bluestreak suddenly blurted, sitting up so quickly, he slammed into Wildrider's leg with a loud clang. Both mechs recoiled in shock and Wildrider kicked back into Arcee, waking her so quickly, she transformed and had her guns pinned on him a second later.

"Watch it!" she snapped.

"THE SQUISHIES ARE SICK!" Wildrider screeched, ignoring her guns and gesturing wildly instead. Jazz face-palmed.

"…What?" the bike asked, bewildered. She retracted her weapons immediately, now alarmed. "Jazz, Wheeljack, what does he mean?"

"Look, they picked up a bug—a virus—at that camp probably. Heck, maybe they just picked it up from the air," Jazz replied quickly, trying to keep them calm. "I don't know what kind, but I think it's the flu. They got chills, nausea, a mild fever—it's normal."

"Normal?" Wheeljack blurted, sounding very worried. His earfins flashed wildly. "Viruses are hardly normal! We have no anti-virus—wait." He paused as his optics began to flash, showing he was researching something. "My databases must not be up to par with this kind of medical situation. I know that they can contract bacterial and microbial infections through the air or other contaminated surfaces but…" He stopped again and seemed to concentrate on new information. "Ah, I found the files. One moment."

"Viruses are different for humans!" Jazz exclaimed to the panicking others, aggravated. He did not like how Wildrider was reacting; they did not need him freaking out and then upsetting the others. "Primus, it's just a hyped up cold, that's all." Bluestreak was also incredibly agitated and had gotten up quickly, looking over at the humans fearfully.

"But how are we going to cure it?" Arcee demanded, also tense. "Viruses need a medic to wipe out!"

Jazz couldn't blame his friends for overreacting. Too often did they forget that English and Cybertronian words, although similar in translation, did not have the same meaning. "Virus" for mechs meant something far worse than it did for humans, he had to concede. It was impossible to get rid of unless they had a trained medic with the proper anti-virus.

"Humans are different, Arcee," Wheeljack replied, now much calmer as he probably read through the databases he had. He tilted his head at the humans, who were still listening into the conversation but seemed very subdued. "Humans have natural anti-virus databases already inside of their bodies. For them, they have to wait the virus out. In fact, they don't have any artificial anti-virus materials. It's all natural processes that do the work."

Arcee, while still concerned, nodded in understanding. Wildrider and Bluestreak still looked very upset, however. Jazz sighed.

"That said," he interrupted, frowning, "we still have t' be careful. They need fluids, warmth, good food an' rest. Lots of rest. If they don't get better, they can die from it, okay?" He knew at least that much from the time he had spent with the military, when far more humans were around to learn from.

"What can _we_ do?" Thundercracker asked, frowning.

Jazz crossed his arms, considering. "Well, we don't need t' keep 'em inside us, 'cause it ain't that cold out really," he commented. "Pretty warm actually. I don't think we can travel, at least 'til th' worst is over."

"I concur," Barns said. He tried to speak loudly to reach the crowd of Transformers, but ended up sending himself into a coughing fit after trying. "We—need to—rest."

"Wh-what if it gets worse?" Bluestreak asked, scared. He and the others walked over to the humans. Rachel looked like she was asleep, but was probably just trying to. Kass was sitting up and wrapped up in her blanket. She looked very ill. "Kass?"

"M'fine," she mumbled. She shuddered and wrapped the blanket around herself more. "We can't stay put. Th' drones."

"We can afford a day or two, Kass. You guys can't push yer luck. I've seen sick soldiers b'fore and it sucks," Jazz replied, smiling gently. "I just wish it wasn't happening." He hated to see any of his friends in pain; the humans, no matter how old they were getting, inspired a strong inner need to protect.

"Yeah, well, until it clears up, I'm not moving. I don't think I _could_ move," Rachel added, shivering violently. She curled up more under her blankets; Wildrider whined and sat behind the humans. The sympathetic look on his face seemed unnatural.

"Stupid squishy bodies," he spat, glaring at Danny, but Jazz could only assume it was literally at her body and not her personally.

Danny giggled, but the sound was rather hoarse. "Ha, I agree," she said, looking up at him blearily. "I feel horrible."

Wheeljack sighed heavily, earning everyone's attentions. "It's perfectly, but unfortunately, natural. They just have to keep drinking liquids and stay warm. Luckily the weather is good for that," he said, looking more relieved than he previously had. "This will be just fi—"

And just then, Kass chose that moment to throw up.

The chaos that ensued was, in hindsight, hilarious, but Jazz wasn't really keen on laughing anytime soon. Bluestreak all but screamed and began to shout for Wheeljack to do something. The scientist was frazzled and obviously didn't have a clue what to do. In fact, probably none of the mechs knew what was going on, save Jazz.

"She's fine! She's fine!" he kept shouting. Wildrider was chattering rapidly in Cybertronian about 'purging' but everyone was talking at once now. The humans scrambled out of the way as Kass heaved up last night's dinner all over the grass.

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Rachel shouted, gripping her head. "Ow, goddamn it."

It was a total mess the rest of the morning. The humans huddled around a newly built fire and tried to focus on preparing for a few days of healing. Vortex was irritable now that he realized they would have to stay in the same place for at least three days. It was risky, but Jazz knew it was necessary.

Breakfast was out of the question for now, all four humans decided; the symptoms did not go away. "I feel horrible!" Kass wailed. She hunched over, eyes clenched tightly shut. "Oh, God, this is just bloody awful."

Jazz exchanged a worried glance with Thundercracker, who was grim but firm. He didn't get as rattled as the others, so Jazz was going to count on him to keep the others calm. Wheeljack was also much calmer and was instructing Arcee and Vortex to fetch more water for them to make some tea, at least.

 _::We'll be okay. Just keep calm for Bluestreak and Wildrider's sakes,::_ Thundercracker said over a private comm.. Bluestreak looked devastated that he couldn't help his small friends.

Jazz sighed, nodding. It was all they could do.

"I'm going to throw up, too," Danny suddenly announced.

Jazz grimaced as the chaos recommenced as the woman stumbled up to throw up somewhere they weren't sleeping; it would be a _long_ three days.

 **0000**

She had had the flu before, a long time ago when she was younger. Her mother and father had been very upset, too, and did their best to make her feel better. Kevin had been just a baby, so he had to stay away from her too. It was an awful week, but they survived. In fact, she didn't feel nearly as awful now as she had when she was younger, but this new illness was proving to be a real pain, just because of where they were and who they were with.

They were all glad that this was happening in the summer. If it was the winter, they'd be significantly screwed over. The weather was warm enough that they could just lay down with blankets on the ground if they wanted. Although it might have been more comfortable to rest inside a mech, none of them wanted to throw up inside one of them (oh, goodness, that would have been horrible.) Rachel and Kass and Barns rested as quietly as possible around the fire. Barns, although he was generally very mature about things, was a drama queen when sick and refused to budge from his blanket nest.

Danny was the worst off, for sure. She had never had much contact with humans growing up, so she rarely had illnesses when she was little. Going to camps usually only earned them minor colds or coughs. This was entirely new for her and she was utterly miserable. Wheeljack wanted to sit by her or at least let her rest in the back of his transformed form, but he and Jazz were running around trying to take care of all four of them. So, now Danny was curled up inside Wildrider, who had offered to take her instead. Although Danny didn't want to take advantage of 'Rider, she couldn't resist letting him help her. Even Kass had to feel sorry for the mech; he was still struggling to grasp the concept that the flu virus wasn't an incurable thing.

What was really the most amusing thing, in fact the only thing that distracted the humans from their own misery, was the growing misery of the mechs. None of them had a clue how to help their organic friends and they tried, desperately, but never seemed to be able to get it right.

"D'you want me t' do something?" Jazz asked Rachel, crouching by her. He looked sincerely upset that he wasn't able to do anything else.

Rachel, her natural temper heightened by illness, glared at him over a cup of steaming tea. "Yes. Go away."

"…D'you want me t' make you soup?" the silver mech offered weakly.

With a groan, the blond keeled over, saying in a louder voice, "TC, make Jazz go away." Jazz winced and Thundercracker dragged him off, though neither looked happy about it.

They were virtually incapable of helping, Kass realized, almost wanting to laugh over the ridiculous situation they were in. If the mechs were injured, she could have helped by getting into the tiny areas Wheeljack couldn't. But if a human was hurt or sick? The mechs could really only get water and heat it for them, or maybe food and… that was it. It wasn't cold enough to need a warm interior of a transformed vehicle. No one blamed anyone for it, of course, but it was still frustrating for the mechs and uncomfortable for the humans as their species' size got in the way of making things easier for each other.

Kass smiled quietly to herself as the group tried to reorient themselves. They weren't used to sitting around in broad daylight and good weather. There wasn't a lot to do, especially with the humans just sleeping. Arcee was resting near the campfire, just in case the humans needed more water or firewood, and Wildrider and Bluestreak were both transformed, staying close to the three remaining resting organics. The other mechs hung back, awkward, unable to offer anything other than watching for drones.

It was very awkward after several hours of just… sitting there. They couldn't play any games and conversation was really limited to the mechs themselves. None of the humans had the strength to keep up a conversation and Kass found herself sleeping most of the first day. It was horrible, not even because of the illness.

She knew what it felt like to feel useless, she mused absently in fevered thoughts as another day began and the same awkward tension continued. Kevin never got the flu, but he'd always had colds as a little boy. She hated standing there, listening to him sniffle and complain, and not being able to do anything about it. What good was love if it did nothing to fix the problems hurting your friends or family?

By the end of the second day, she was feeling much better. Rachel was too, as she volunteered to handle food detail. They didn't have to worry about exchanging germs at this rate (which was what got them into trouble in the first place). Kass was sitting up watching the fire as Barns and Danny slept. Rachel was talking quietly with Jazz about where to get fresh food, but they probably would have to eat canned goods and food they had foraged a few days before. Barns was flaked out on the ground and Danny was out cold in Wildrider again, who was being remarkably calm and quiet for the sake of the humans. Even Arcee was impressed by his good behavior.

The one mech who wasn't calming down was their youngest mech. Kass kept stealing glances over at Bluestreak, who was sullenly keeping an eye on the fire, often putting too much wood onto the flames. His doorwings were pointed downward, a sign he was distressed. He was trying too hard, Kass realized, smiling sadly.

Grabbing up her blankets, she scooted over to his side. He seemed freezing cold to her—the mechs always were much cooler with their metal exterior—but it was a soothing feeling against her heated skin. Bluestreak flinched when she leaned against his leg.

"Hi, Bluestreak," she said, trying to set up her blankets around her. She winced. Her voice was so hoarse.

Bluestreak smiled, but the gesture didn't seem to reach his optics or posture. "Hi, Kass," he replied, sounding earnest. "How are you feeling?"

Kass smiled gently, letting her head rest completely against his frame. Everything was so heavy. "I'm better, Blue. Still feel achy and hot," she replied, closing her eyes. "Mind if I use you to help cool off?" She hated to let him feel useless when he could do something to comfort her.

"I don't mind," Blustreak said, with a true smile. "What is it like to 'be achy'?" Bluestreak asked, sounding concerned, but also curious. Kass smiled, keeping her eyes shut; even though all of the Transformers were thousands of years old, they possessed such naivety when dealing with the organics.

"Like… you hurt on the inside of your skin," she replied. "Like your bones hurt."

She looked up to see Bluestreak frowning, his doorwings up high now. "Oh… so… like I guess that would be my support struts," he said. He paused. "That's weird. Why would they hurt if you have a malfunction of your head?"

"Not really a malfunction of my head. More like I've got a lot of small things inside me causing my body to go haywire while it fights them off. But I dunno why it has to hurt like that," Kass said, chuckling. That made her head hurt, but she didn't mind, if it cheered up her friend. "Never found out why."

"You are getting better, aren't you?" the mech asked, tilting his head as his doorwings drooped. Kass sighed.

"Yes." She smiled and draped her arms over his legs, feeling the rumble of his systems vibrate through the metal skin. "We'll be okay, Blue. Don't worry."

Their size difference made things difficult for everyone, she reflected. The awkward and tragic situation between Vortex and Rachel, Wheeljack's discomfort in dealing with the now grown-up Danny, the situation they were in now—it wasn't fair. But they had to deal with it; they had to learn to take advantage of the fact that every one of them brought something useful to the table. Even if a problem couldn't be solved easily, it would eventually get worked out. They just needed to have patience and understand that even when they couldn't physically help one of their teammates… the gesture was still seen, appreciated and loved.

"You're doing a good job, Blue," she said quietly.

Bluestreak whined lowly, the sound more audible to her because she was pressed against his leg. "I hate seeing you guys get hurt or sick," he complained.

"It happens," Kass replied, trying to be reassuring.

The gunner hesitated and his doorwings sank lower. "You're all I have, you know," he said, tilting his head. "Well, I mean, I have all ten of you, but you and your family always have a special place in my spark, you know?"

Kass stared at his gray armor, feeling her heart twist. "…I feel the same, Blue," she said quietly, tracing the etched metal.

"I don't want to lose you. I…" Bluestreak stopped and sighed. He looked incredibly torn. "That's selfish, isn't it?"

"No… it's normal." Kass closed her eyes and all she could see were faces she hadn't seen in over three years. It took all the will power she had to keep those faces untainted by blood. "You're like a brother to me, Bluestreak. You knew Kevin and I… I miss him a lot. But I see him in you as well… and what's more… I see someone else that I've adopted as family. I love you a lot, Blue."

That was true. It was all true. When she had first been forced to reckon with the knowledge that she was indeed an orphan and all she had left in the world were strangers—not even just _human_ strangers—it nearly drove her mad.

But somehow… those strangers became enough. To have fellow victims to talk to, to know that she wasn't alone in a horrible world that would have swallowed her up much sooner than it would have with them… it was an amazing feeling. What was more, to know that she still had a piece of her family within this one alien, who proved to be just as caring as any human friend she could have asked for—

Yes, it was enough and much more than she could have ever asked.

"I love you, too, Kass," Bluestreak said, so honestly and so seriously, it almost made Kass cry. "So please… get better soon."

"I'll try," she replied softly, closing her eyes. The quiet of the forest and the smell of meat cooking lulled her to sleep.

The next day, they had to get up and move. Danny was feeling much better, but Barns clung onto his groans and expression of misery if only to have an excuse to be picked up. Rachel, of course, pushed her limits by walking on her own and wound up holding them up another hour after breaking into a fierce coughing fit. None of them were better, not yet, but moving was necessary. Kass let Bluestreak carry her and tried to think of anything but how high up she was…

Illnesses dried up rather anti-climatically, but Danny put on a big show a week later of how she no longer was sick and celebrated enthusiastically with Wildrider by racing. Wheeljack was un-amused. Everyone else was relieved and life slowly began to move back into its normal pace.

There was no comment on camps, but whenever it was brought up, Bluestreak would moodily point out the source of the flu virus. Kass could only laugh; yes, Bluestreak reminded her of her younger brother a lot.

Then, three weeks later, Barns sneezed while they were crossing a small creek bed. Even Kass, who tried not to encourage nor pick on mechs like Wildrider, burst out laughing when he turned to the humans with a look of utter horror.

"Again? !" the red-and-black mech screeched.

Wheeljack seemed to enjoy explaining the difference between allergies and illness. Wildrider seemed to take it as that they should set fire to any flowering plants in their way, but thankfully Jazz and Wheeljack put an end to that.

"It's never simple, is it?" Barns asked in reference to their strange but beloved lifestyle, smiling in amusement as the argument played out ( _"Wildrider, you can't destroy the flora, it's fragile and endangered!"_ ).

Kass shook her head, smiling. "It might not be simple, but it's normal."

And that, if anything, was the truth.

 

 **End** _**Fever** _

_**Next** _ **: Get a glimpse into the mind of Wildrider. Buckle your seatbelt~!**


	27. Insanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

He thought his name was Wildrider.

He should have been dead many times over, this he knew to be a fact without question. He knew this as he knew, somehow, that he was a Stunticon— a part of a gestalt, a part of Menasor. Death would come to the Stunticons far quicker and harsher than to other mechs, because they were the ones who did the dirty work that no one dared to do—they were powerful and great—

And now dead.

All of them. From the moment he onlined to find his brothers gone, he had felt that he was also dead. To find Motormaster ripped in half, Dead End's innards draped over Breakdown and Drag Strip—

Breakdown had still been online, but his spark was gone. Wildrider had somehow found the strength of will to mercifully offline his brother and then had collapsed again. There was nothing to stand up for or with after that; he was only a leg now.

The universe was gone and replaced with this clay one, this mud world—Earth.

He couldn't feel anything. Everything was made of nothing, like fog or a heavy snowfall or muddy water. Diluted, impure, untouchable, unfeelable. He wandered for miles and found nothing to touch, nothing to feel. The world seemed to crawl past him; he saw everything, but perceived none of it beyond the sound of drones. Nothing seemed real, he didn't feel like he was dead or alive, he just existed in a slow, unending in-between. Death was never an option, but neither was living.

He almost forgot his name.

How could he lose a name—his _own_ name? It was no one else's—no one's, not even his brothers'. He'd picked it himself, cherished it, loved it, because no one else would, because it kept him afloat in the oneness, the unity. But there was nothing to drift in now, nothing to separate himself from. His was a name made useless by the loss of that oneness—

And then he met others.

He wasn't expecting to meet anyone, let alone three mechs who would offer a friendly hand. Mechs caring for and travelling with squishable life forms… they were definitely not what he was expecting to find in the Pit. He thought his spark had finally broken and this was just something his mind created to keep itself going… or to drag itself down further.

But it was real.

Boss Mech was a flier this time—he had never liked fliers. They were way too cocky, too flighty—never really got their hands into a fight. More like caused them. But Thundercracker wasn't like Starscream. He was calmer, bigger, maybe just as unfriendly, but something else was there. He cared. Who cared for outsiders? Boss Mech didn't; but he cared for those within their fold. He cared for the other Boss, the silver one who grinned, and he cared for the humans. The squishies.

Wildrider had to wonder how complicated a dream could be as the days went on until he realized he had stopped telling himself it wasn't real. It became real. It became… life.

Three mechs he could handle. Wheeljack was intriguing—such a coward of arms but took him in like orphaned sparkling. Who did such things? He let the scientist—he smelled of Iacon… the sickeningly clean halls—touch his wounds and fix what he had previously just let go. The drones could inflict damage and the scientist could fix it—but he never felt anything. The strangeness remained when the Autobot willingly bent down exposing a fragile neck just to patch up a half-dead Decepticon.

Strange strange world.

But the thing that really threw him were the squishies—the _humans_.

They were too small too weak too—too squishy. They stared at him with appropriate fear the first day they met. The yellow-topped one seemed intent on challenging him, but backed off too easily. He expected them to stay away and he was glad for that; he didn't want to get slagged off by one of their bigger friends just because he _accidentally_ smashed one.

But they didn't stay that way, their fearful gazes. They stopped that after the fifth day. At first he wanted to fix that, to make them afraid again, to make them realize he was not some docile beast they had captured and tamed. The only thing between him and their destruction were the three larger mechs who threatened him constantly not to harm the humans. What a waste.

It was still tempting to grab one up, just to see. He had heard little about what they were like before Galvatron's fall, but now so close to two of them… it was strange, much like the rest of Earth. They talked strangely, about feelings. He couldn't help but watch them intensely after they mentioned _loving_ or _liking_ or _hating_ or _feeling_ this and that. As if it was natural for them to feel thousands of things at once without fear of system malfunctions or backfire. Like they could feel past the clay world all of them were trapped in.

He finally touched one when Boss Mech was gone with yellow-headed squishy and Small Boss Mech was recharging. The brown haired squishy yelped when he picked her up, but didn't scream. Otherwise, the Smart Mech would have noticed.

"Wh-what?" the squishy demanded. He kept forgetting their names. Names had never been important before. Squishies had never been important, either.

He peered down, trying to wrap himself around the sensation of her body. She was just… soft. Dull. Clay. Like everything else.

"I cannot feel you," he said simply. True, true, it was true. Just dullness and nothing.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I thought your hands could sense everything."

"Not everything. Not inside-matters. Spark." Wildrider held her up higher, watching the soft substance flow off her head, hanging like wires from a mech's armor. "Cannot feel sparks now."

The squishy paused. "…Like your brothers?"

Wildrider had told them he had been part of a gestalt, but had never said brothers. He stared at her in shock, wondering if she could somehow read a mech's mind. Squishies did strange things, but this one was not like Soundwave. He skipped over that strangeness, suddenly feeling like talking more.

"Yes. They are gone. They left vith the feelings, and I have none," he replied. He tensed, optics spasming as did his spark. "Nothing else _feels_ here, not on this vorld. So dull."

"I'm sorry," the human replied, sounding like an Autobot. Honest. Truthful. _Feeling_.

Wildrider peered at her, trying to take in every last aspect of her frame, trying to figure out the mystery of her own sensations. "They say you feel too much… you organics," he said slowly, tilting her this way and that before just holding her there, staring eye to optic. "How _do_ you feel?"

The human made a face, but seemed to only be thinking. Did they always have to make faces when they thought? Wildrider kind of liked that. "We feel with our hearts," she replied, motioning with her free hand at her chest area, where a spark should have been. He thought their sparks were in their heads. Maybe a heart was like a spark.

"That's inside body," he said, holding her up closer, trying to see what she meant. There was nothing on her chest but clothing and under that would be bare skin. "Do you take them out?"

The human made a strange sound he'd later know as a laugh. "No. 'Heart' isn't like a literal heart," she replied, but that made little sense to him. "It's… you just feel inside your chest. You feel emotions… through touching, or words, or actions. You love by loving."

Wildrider felt a twinge of something, but it was such an alien thing, feelings. "I used to feel… though feeling," he said quietly, thinking back. Memories brought back ghosts of sensation, but it was so fleeting, he didn't think it actually existed. "Connections. Spark to spark."

"Humans don't have that," the squishy said, shaking her head. "We just have touch."

"This is enough?" Wildrider asked, frowning.

"Well… saying things helps. And actions. They _connect_ the feelings between people." The human smiled and reached over, freeing her other arm from Wildrider's lessening grip. She took up his thumb and wrapped her arms around it. "Like this."

"…Vhat is it?" he asked after a long pause. He could only feel the clay sensation of flesh. Was something supposed to happen?

"A hug," the squishy answered brightly. "I can't let you feel my affection, so I'm showing it to you, physically."

Wildrider tilted his head. "Vhat does it mean?"

There was no hesitation in her face or voice when she replied. "It means you're my friend," she said, tilting her head the opposite way, still smiling.

Friend. _Friend_. He did not know that word. Ineffective language.

He put her down before one of the other mechs saw him and she never told them, apparently, because he was still alive the next day. It only made him want to press his luck more, but as the days went by, there was little point. The more he experienced their lack of fear, the less he wanted to inspire it, and the less the Bosses seemed inclined to react to him when he did act out.

It was disappointing… or just normalcy returning. Wildrider couldn't tell what was happening. The world seemed to speed up a little; he saw everything and noticed more than before. He watched the expressions on the faces of the squishies, heard the crunch of gravel as they walked. He was always the first to hear the world get quiet as the sound of drones approached.

Something strange happened weeks later, during a fight with the drones. Foul, wild creatures—Wildrider hated them more than anything. He let the others fight their battles, not caring if one fell. They did the same for him, but he caught glimpses in the heat of battle of Small Boss Mech or even one of the humans defending him from behind.

Fools.

But in the middle of that battle, the silver one— _JazzJazzJazz_ —got swarmed. Wildrider knew what that was like, to face dozens of gleaming red optics all at once. Terrifying, even for a Stunticon. Big Boss Mech was busy, and Wildrider saw Jazz go down, piece of armor by piece of armor. He stood there, watching for what seemed like eternity but it was really just a second.

Many things crossed his processors and nothing made sense. Cannons whirled in his arms, but he didn't know which to point them at, the struggling mech or the beasts destroying him. He didn't know if he could just join the fray, relish in the mounting chaos—and just disappear into the violence just like his fallen team. A fitting end, a justice only the lowly few deserved.

 _Brothers dead so what's the point?_

There is no point.

No point.

He stared and realized. Realized everything. He could not feel the ground, the organics, the air or water—

But he never tried to feel like a squishy. So, he tried.

He ripped the drones off of the smaller mech, stray pieces of the silver mech flying into the air with the dead drone. Roaring, Wildrider spun and snatched an unlucky drone from the air, crushing it sparking raining death

Hands finding another and another and another, his touch of death—felt so right. Felt real.

He _felt_.

 _What_ he felt didn't matter as much as the fact that he _did_ , he realized. That… that was more important.

Life was so much simpler after that.

He dared to touch more. Wheeljack made fearful noises whenever Wildrider moved too close to the brown haired human— _Danny_ , he told himself over and over and over until that's all he thought when he saw her—and poked and provoked. He didn't want fear, not now. He provoked smiles and laughter and anything that could somehow— _somehow_ cause his spark to react again. Because that's how they felt, the humans, and soon… that's how he could feel again as well. A laugh inspired happiness, tears provoked sadness, a helping hand inspired camaraderie—

When Goddard died… Wildrider almost didn't know what had really happened. It didn't feel real. He couldn't feel the loss, not in his frame, but he felt it in his spark, as if Goddard's death had happened all inside his own mind. It was real, because Goddard truly was gone… but Wildrider didn't know why he felt the way he did.

"You lost a brother in arms. He wasn't yer species and used t' be yer enemy—but he wasn't at th' time," Jazz told him. "You saw him as a friend."

Again, again, always the same word. It never… made any sense.

The day Bluestreak almost got slagged was the day Wildrider realized it wasn't just the squishies either. Blitzwing— _slagging fliers, always ruining everything_ —pounded the other grounder like he was made of tin. Bluestreak was the perfect little Autobot, someone Wildrider would have loved to rip apart.

But not that day, and never after. He tore Blitzwing apart, relishing every last spark and sensation of rolling energon on his armor, just to feel to know how to feel to just—

Be alive.

"You know what this means, 'Rider?" the grateful, naïve, stupid, hopeless Autobot told him after that, as his systems screamed in agony, but his spark sang. "We're friends."

He didn't even know what that meant. They all kept saying it. He had never heard that word spoken to him, about him, near him—

"Fine. Fine. Ve are _friends_."

He didn't even know when it had failed to matter whether or not that word made sense, or if he deserved to have it attached to his person, or whether or not he viewed any other creature in that way. It just… _was_.

It was slowly making sense, after things like that happened. Like when he slammed Jazz down and he let the Autobot slam him back into the ground, both fighting for the sake of friendship rather than for spilt energon. Or when he drove wild animals away from his squishable companions instead of enjoying the show of them being eaten alive. Or even when Wheeljack got injured by the drones, he wouldn't let the beaten mech fall behind. Or why his spark twisted like a new sparkling when he saw Arcee and she saw him, and he did everything he could to make her see him again and again.

Touch meant nothing without meaning from inside. It boggled his processors, but the trick was to just let it go, he realized after several years of the same insanity that was becoming a new kind of sanity, one where things were calmer and safer and just better overall. To feel anything in this world, with these people, he had to touch and _then_ extend his spark. It was alien, but it wasn't terrible. There were far worse things.

His gestalt was gone, but… was it that impossible to think he could not have a new one? Wildrider didn't think so. They were a gestalt— _family_ , the humans called it—and that was enough. There were no spark-connections nor bonds of a mech kind. The new kind, one carved through action, was just as potent. Wildrider could accept that.

The swirling world swept past them. They could only see the surface of it, his companions, but he saw it all. He saw everything his gestalt should have seen, but now it was left to him. Everything bounced by and he caught glimpses of it all, but he ignored most of it, trying to focus on the most important. The sounds of drones, the quiet of the forest, the sensations of the wind changing, the glances between members, the tones, the clouds of feelings noticeable only to those who had felt them before and knew how to feel again. He noticed it—he reveled in it. It meant he was alive and so were his _friends_. If paying attention kept their group together, he would see everything.

He regretted nothing. Not his creation, not his gestalt, not their deaths, and not his own resurrection as a friend rather than a foe. His name was Wildrider and he wasn't alone. He would never forget that—either fact.

— _footsteps not too heavy but mech sized_. "'Rider?" Jazz asked. "Everything okay?"

Quietly standing there, Wildrider realized he had been silent for more than the others were used to, standing still in the wake of another camp being made.

"Yes," he replied, rolling a shoulder, cracking a grin. "I am fine."

And the mech believed him. Because he trusted Wildrider as much as Wildrider trusted him. The others wanted to know the whys or hows of that shared sentiment, but Wildrider—

Wildrider was content to just know it was. That was enough.

Let the drones come. Let them try to destroy _this_.

Wildrider would be waiting.

 

 **End** _**Insanity** _

_**Next** _ **: Arcee learns the meaning of the saying, "Boys will be boys"…**


	28. Stupidity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. Bear Scaring © my friend, Bill.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

She loved her friends. Arcee was not afraid to admit that, not anymore. Some days, she even felt a mild form of affection toward their Decepticon members as well, after a particularly harsh drone battle or just a bad day overall.

Other days, she wanted to _obliterate_ a good sixty percent of their group's population just because of the sheer moronic situations they seemed to get themselves—and _somehow_ her as well—into.

"We do it for fun, Arcee!" Barns said in his own and others' defense. Arcee could only scowl in return.

She cared deeply for Barns as much as she did the other humans; they had an amazing ability to attach themselves to her spark and make her think of better days when she dreamed of being a creator, before the war. With those dreams long gone, it had been nice to be around younglings, even if they had been an alien species' version. Now that they were grown up, she still felt the need to protect them. They grew up far too fast, she mourned.

Even still… Barnaby had some nasty habits. He could be the sweetest, most polite and charming person in the entire group, outshining even Danny and Jazz when it came to people skills. But at the same time, he could be almost as unbearable as Wildrider when it came to pranks and overall antics. He was crafty with his tricks and whenever Wildrider or Jazz acted up, Barns could be counted on to be an accomplice in some way.

It wasn't just pranks. It was a lot of things, things Arcee just couldn't—wouldn't—call intelligent or truly rational. In fact, some days, she had absolutely no idea what had happened. Things would just transpire, due in part to mischief from one of the three top troublemakers, and Arcee would be left standing in the dust, wallowing in confusion.

Then there were the days she knew exactly what had happened and she was left wishing she was still ignorant. She could handle confusion far better than the aggravating realization that her companions were morons.

It was never the same thing, but certain aspects of their lives were repeated, much to Arcee's dismay. Some of them stuck out in her mind as the "worst case scenario" for her group to experience as they traveled through the wilderness. Oh, the confusion; oh, the chaos…

 **0000**

The loud sound of metal smashing into metal made Arcee flinch. She had been expecting to be able to rest in relative calmness at midday when they stopped, as usual. The humans were eating their meal and the mechs just sat around, perhaps having their own rations of energon, or just conversing. That day, she was content to sit alone, just to have some quiet.

It seemed like she would not be getting any today, however. Turning, Arcee expected to see an accident, like two of their mech companions having collided somehow. It happened, especially around the mechs with the largest size difference. Another option was that one of the Decepticons had suddenly attacked another; that was less likely, Arcee had to concede, but she was still on alert.

She was unpleasantly surprised to see Wildrider holding Jazz down on the ground, his free hand raised as if to start punching Jazz.

The first sensation that rippled through her spark was fear and anger; she wanted to go over there and blast the Decepticon off of the Autobot. No matter how many years they had been traveling together, Wildrider was no Autobot and Arcee would never forget that.

Luckily, Arcee had enough sense to realize exactly what she was looking at. She had seen it before, over and over, from her experience with the group of mechs and humans. Wildrider did wind up hitting Jazz, but it was a non-lethal move, more to disorient. Jazz responded by heaving the larger mech up and rolling, both colliding again as they wrestled their way across the field.

Arcee groaned internally; both Wildrider and Jazz, despite their different factions and the risks involved with it all, loved to wrestle. She couldn't fathom why or how they could do it when it put both of them at risk for being harmed fatally. They trusted one another enough to just fight for fun; Arcee never understood it.

She heard soft footsteps over the grass and then a small body perched on the log she had been sitting on earlier. "Enjoying the show?" Barns asked, smiling up at her.

Arcee grimaced. "They are going to get hurt," she replied coolly, refusing to share the human's mirth.

"Oh, they are just having fun," Barns replied, waving her concern away. He settled on the log, content to watch the mock-battle play out.

Arcee resigned herself to stand by him, watching with a dulled expression. This wasn't very entertaining, but she had to reason that nothing truly was on Earth. They had to make their own entertainment, even if it was mildly dangerous and stupid.

It did not take Barns very long before he too was drawn in by the sheer ridiculousness. "Can I join?" he pondered out loud. Jazz and Wildrider cheered and stopped wrestling.

Arcee spun around, gawking at the human boy in shock. "What?" she demanded, desperately hoping her audio receptors were just malfunctioning.

Barns grinned, pointing at the two mechs. "That looks like fun," he said. "I never get to hang around with other guys. This could be fun."

"You'd be squished!" she exclaimed, horrified.

"Aw. You're right," he said, his eyes sparkling in a way that meant he had been teasing her. She sighed. "I wonder if I can be the referee," he offered instead.

Arcee winced as he strode toward the two mechs fearlessly. "Don't get close!" she called after him, unable not to be nervous for his sake.

"Bah, you worry too much, femme," Wildrider said, leering over at her as he and Jazz untangled themselves for Round Two.

"With good reason," she replied coldly, glaring at him.

"Aw, lighten up, Arcee," Barns said cheerfully, walking over to the two mechs. "Wildrider wouldn't really hurt me."

Arcee would have loved to believe that, but she couldn't help but be paranoid. The mech in question seemed to disregard her pessimism, however, but as soon as she thought it safe to turn away, Wildrider took one look at Barns and then grinned. Arcee went to speak a warning, but it was too late. The Decepticon flung himself away from Jazz and right on top of Barnaby. Arcee yelled and rushed forward as the several tons of Decepticon slammed down onto the human—

And then Jazz started to laugh. Arcee screeched to a stop, weapon systems stuck half-way transformed as she tried to figure out what was happening. Why, in the name of _Primus_ , was he laughing about—? !

Then, she heard someone else laughing. Looking down, Arcee saw Barns laying on the ground, having fallen over during the assault, but he wasn't squished. Wildrider had caught himself by his arms, looming over the human instead. Barns was laughing quite loudly and Wildrider looked mischievously proud of himself.

"— _scared_ me!" Barns choked out, laughing. Arcee had no idea why he would laugh at this if he had been scared.

"Vas good, yes?" Wildrider asked, sitting back up. He never even touched the human, who sat up as well.

Jazz, chuckling, walked over to the two. "Primus, 'Rider, that was awesome," he said, shaking his head. "Don't do it again, though, okay? We can't have any accidents."

"Once was enough, thank you," Barns added, laughing. He patted Wildrider's knee, grinning. "It was a good joke, though, 'Rider."

Arcee glared at the three, flustered beyond words. Why on Earth did any of them think that was funny? It had scared her senseless to think Barns had been killed by that insane, moronic—

"You okay, Arcee?" she heard Danny ask. Arcee glanced down at the human femme and scowled.

"I'm fine," she replied stiffly, rolling away, far, far away, from the utter idiocy of those three. Her processors just couldn't handle it.

 **0000**

Sometimes, it was more than just the boys. Arcee had been trying to enjoy a peaceful evening as they prepared dinner and their evening camp. A group of birds had perched in a tree not far from where they were along the edges of a forest, so Arcee watched them with interest, having nothing else to do really as her friends busied around.

Barns had been talking with Danny for a little while as they waited for their meal to cook, but Arcee noticed him moving away from the fire. He was focusing more on the huge boulders that lined the foot of the mountain the forest had touched. They were impressive rocks that promised decent protection in the night, hence the reason they chose that spot.

Arcee soon learned to expect her friends to find other uses for said-rocks, however.

"Hey… these would be awesome for lifting," Barns said abruptly, pointing at the rocks.

The nearest mech to him was, of course, the worst. "Lifting?" repeated Wildrider, looking at the human curiously.

Barns, grinning, pointed at the pile of boulders. "I bet you can't lift that rock," he said, impish.

 _Oh, Primus._ Arcee forced herself to focus on the birds. The birds were pleasant. What Barns was hinting at was not, at least none of the times he had said it before.

Kass told her they did things like that because they were trying to show off, to show who was strongest. It was a male thing. Arcee could understand wanting to show off or perhaps demonstrating superior strength, but… lifting rocks?

"Ha! I vill vin!" Wildrider said, accepting the challenge. He grabbed a small boulder, heaving it upwards with some difficulty. It did get a good few feet into the air, but he was straining himself considerably to do so.

"Wildrider, don't be foolish!" Wheeljack chided from across the camp. Vortex snickered.

Wildrider tossed the rock back down with a triumphant yell. "Beat that!" he challenged, grinning down at Barns.

"Lemme try," Jazz said, joining into the fray as Arcee had expected. She sighed and tried to keep out of the conversation of people betting on who could lift the most.

And so, that's how a decent amount of their male population spent the evening. Barns found smaller rocks to test his strength on, while Jazz, Wildrider and surprisingly Thundercracker took on the larger rocks. It was never a real competition, only in their minds. After all, Barnaby could never hope to pick up a rock Jazz or Wildrider could pick up, and none of them could carry as much weight as Thundercracker could. The others crowded around, prompting Arcee to reluctantly roll over to the activity, to watch in amusement. Arcee didn't understand it.

And of course, once the boys started, Rachel joined in. She could only lift as much as Barns could, and barely that. Jazz and Wildrider both teased her, so she tried to lift the heavier stones so much that she actually fell over. Arcee winced when the human femme hit the ground rather hard. Even Jazz stopped laughing.

"Are you okay?" Barns asked, peering over at the girl.

Rachel scowled, but it was a gesture aimed at herself. "At least I can fly!" she snarled, even as Barns and Jazz started to laugh, knowing she was okay.

"Yeah, that's more important," Vortex said abruptly. Rachel peered at him in surprise and the helicopter quickly turned away when Thundercracker sent him a suspicious stare. Arcee sighed.

 **0000**

Sometimes the humans attacked in a unified group effort. Arcee never saw it coming, because the humans were so spontaneous. They didn't do it as often as Wildrider did, but when they did do it… it often frazzled everyone's processors, not just Arcee's.

Another evening was first ruined by said-actions not too soon after Kass and Bluestreak first joined their group. The humans already in their numbers were doing their best to welcome the newcomers and did silly things to make the melancholy Kass laugh with them. Arcee smiled gently as conversation drifted overhead in the waning daylight.

Then, out of no where, Arcee heard the topic shift from hobbies to talents. She had heard much about their members' artistic skills before, so she wasn't too interested—

"Hey!" Danny suddenly shouted. "Look what I can do!"

Arcee obediently turned around, but as soon as she did, she wished she hadn't. The human girl was sitting on her sleeping bag, but instead of sleeping normally, she had somehow wrapped her entire left arm around her shoulder, neck and was holding onto it with her right hand on the other side.

"Holy _Primus_ , what the _frag_ are you doing? !" Vortex demanded, standing upright with a look of revulsion. The mechs all seemed to be staring down at the human femme with varying degrees of shock and intrigue.

"I can twist my arm around my head!" she exclaimed cheerfully, waggling her fingers. Arcee gaped in horror.

Wheeljack groaned. "Great. This again," he muttered, nonplussed.

"Are you insane?" sputtered Vortex, making a face. "Doesn't that—doesn't that _hurt_?"

"Nope!" Danny replied, giggling. She retracted her arm—how, Arcee couldn't fathom—and sat normally, looking proud of herself. "I can move the socket around, is all."

"I can bend my elbows backwards," Rachel offered, grinning. "Wanna see?"

"Sure!" Kass laughed at the same time as Arcee vehemently said, "No!"

Arcee was used to seeing the humans move as flexibly as they could. They could dodge attacks and climb and move with greater ease than the mechs could, despite their small size. Their limbs were designed to bend and flex in ways Arcee couldn't imagine her own body being able to do, ever. It was admirable and gave them an advantage in the wild terrain they traveled, perhaps even more than the mechs had.

That said, it was fragging disturbing to see _this_. Once Danny showed off her apparent double-jointedness, as Barns called it, the other three began to attempt similar feats. Rachel could twist her elbow around slightly beyond its normal rotation limits and Kass could do something similar with her fingers, bending them far further than it seemed they were naturally supposed to bend. Arcee cringed with every attempt.

Barns was the worst, however. He could do handsprings. The moment he leapt backwards and then literally flipped himself into the air and back onto his feet, Arcee yelled. Their bones were so fragile, especially their necks—! How could he willingly do something that could have killed him if he landed wrong?

"I wanna try a handstand," Danny announced. Barns tried to help her to stand upright on only her hands, but she fell every time. Arcee could only watch in silence, cringing with every passing moment.

"How the frag are any of these things going to help with survival?" Thundercracker demanded, after several minutes of the humans attempting to flip themselves over. "Other than making my processors fritz."

Jazz chuckled. "Well, if they get cornered, it helps t' be flexible," he replied casually.

"Let me try," Wildrider said abruptly, starting to stand up.

The resounding, " _NO_!", Arcee was pleased to note, came not only from her and the sane mechs, but also the humans. At least they agreed _that_ much.

 **0000**

What had to be the dumbest, most insensitive and ridiculous thing the boys did in their spare time, Arcee had to conclude, was "Bear Scaring."

It did not involve actual bears. Wildrider was still recovering from the incident last spring (the humans never failed to bring it up when that particular mammal was brought up in conversation.) Instead, he, Barns, and often Danny and Rachel, would target much less lethal animals who were unfortunate enough to wander too close to camp. Wheeljack and Bluestreak thought it was abhorrent to bother the poor creatures. Kass outright refused and even Jazz declined to join in on the event. Vortex and Thundercracker despised animals, so they stayed far away from them by default. As usual, Arcee had no idea why any of them participated at all.

All they did, Barns said in defense, was scare the little creature off, whatever it happened to be. There was no logic behind it; just "fun." How could inflicting momentary, albeit meaningless, terror onto a defenseless animal be fun? That was how Decepticons thought. She knew the humans were perhaps more violent than an Autobot would be, but this was so… so… wrong.

As the majority of their group prepared for a summer evening's rest, the humans suggested the game to alleviate boredom, considering they were already done with their meal and it had been a rather monotonous day. Arcee sighed heavily as Wildrider got involved and the four troublemakers scurried off into the brush. She felt paranoid about letting the humans go off alone with the unstable mech, so she reluctantly tailed them. They didn't go far from camp, just close enough to the river so that they could get close to the wild animals that ventured nearby.

So far, they had found two birds and one furry creature Rachel identified as a muskrat. None of them were particularly threatening, so the humans (giggling nervously) and Wildrider (strangely focused) had no worries approaching the animals. So devoid of human contact, the animals didn't think much of the lurking giants, at least until they got too close.

Arcee had no idea how they judged a "winner" out of this. Wildrider repeatedly explained it to her and Wheeljack, but it never made any sense.

"Whoever has biggest noise and biggest reaction, vins," he said confidently. Wheeljack just shook his helm, not bothering to scold the mech anymore. "The bigger and scarier animal is, the better."

The humans went first today. Rachel lunged at the muskrat, yelling at the top of her lungs. The poor thing scrambled away and the birds, chirping in fear, took off. Laughing, the scaring group stood back, talking excitedly about how good or bad the attempt was. Arcee leaned against one of the trees, shaking her helm. Utter idiocy.

"Hey, it's a raccoon," Danny whispered, pointing. Arcee could see a tan creature wobbling around on the barren ground, scavenging for edible grasses. It looked so tiny; why did they have to pick on the smallest of animals? Then again, most of the larger ones were rare sights.

"Actually, it's a hedgehog," Barns replied just as quiet.

"This von is mine," Wildrider muttered back.

He quietly moved forward, bending down slightly, hands out in preparation. Arcee glared as the mech started in toward the unsuspecting rodent. Wildrider froze and she could easily see him preparing to scream at him. There was a pause and then he lurched forward, mouth opening—

Wildrider's battle cry was cut off abruptly by the sound of a plasma cannon firing mere inches from his head, taking off part of a tree trunk a few yards ahead as the blast echoed faintly through the forest. The hedgehog was long-gone. The red-and-black mech froze completely, optics huge, as the heated air blew past him in the silence that followed.

Arcee smiled innocently, retracting her weapon, as the mech turned around ever so slowly to face her, his faceplates contorted with shock and disbelief.

"There," she said simply. "I win."

Kass burst out laughing and was joined by the majority of the scaring party. Arcee sighed and rolled away, not caring to see Wildrider grinning madly after her, amused by something she doubted she'd ever understand. She was done participating in their antics for the day.

Stupidity was a grating annoyance that never failed to frazzle her processors—but Arcee was learning. It did seem to have some advantages, if only for the gratification of revenge.

…Yes, she could get used to that.

 

  


* * *

  


**End** _**Stupidity** _

_**Next** _ **: Wildrider learns of humanity's favorite holiday. Vortex learns to be afraid. Very afraid.**

* * *

 **A/Ns**  
\- I'd imagine that would be disturbing for a mech to watch a human do flexible things like Barns was doing. The Transformers are, at least within _Fallout_ , not very flexible, i.e. can barely touch the back of their necks with their own hands.


	29. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, and in a mountain of stone,  
Not a creature was stirring, not even a drone.  
Eleven brave figures sat by a fire,  
Some quite awake, others soon to retire.

The snow outside blew harsh on the incline,  
But they in the cave were safe deep inside.  
Conversation was short, but quite soon enough,  
Two of their members began some mischief.

"Do you know what tonight is, guys?"  
Jazz asked, looking to each, meeting optic and eyes.  
"What is it?" Danny asked, truly quite witless.  
The silver mech grinned, and cried, "Why, it's Christmas!"

The humans all smiled, but the mechs only frowned.  
"What is that?" Arcee asked, questioning alien sounds.  
Barns took over and explained quite glibly,  
"This is the holiday when Santa comes down chimneys!"

Wildrider sat up, not understanding the allusion.  
"Who is Santa?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion.  
"A cultural figure, who brings presents and toys,"  
"to good little girls and to good little boys."

Barns' explanation caught the red mech's attention,  
And that of the others, for much different reasons.  
"Don't give him ideas," Thundercracker pled,  
"The cave won't survive—nor will my head."

Wildrider demanded more answers, however,  
About this "Christ-mas," which he soon thought was clever.  
"So to celebrate the historical birth of God's Son,  
People had feasts and gave gifts to everyone?"

"Yes," Barns replied, his face filled with pleasure.  
"When I was a child I was given several treasures."  
"We have no gifts to give," Danny commented sadly,  
"And no time to make some," Kass added flatly.

"That's okay! Santa's got it," Jazz exclaimed with great cheer.  
Rachel retorted, "If he really existed, he would have come last year."  
"Don't be so negative, kiddo," he replied with a smirk.  
"The world's a big place and we ain't seen all it's quirks."

"You're all insane," Vortex snapped, refusing to comply,  
"To want a stranger to come to our camp? He could be a spy."  
Barns laughed at his comment and Kass shook her head,  
"It's only a story, 'Tex, no need to fret."

So, Barns regaled those willing to listen,  
About Santa and elves and Rudolf and Blitzen.  
After a long evening of chatter, they all went to sleep,  
No one truly expecting tomorrow what they'd see.

They woke early when Thundercracker caused quite a ruckus,  
He'd come out of recharge hearing loud chuckles.  
No one else had stirred, but when the jet looked around,  
He trembled with fright at the sight that he found.

A pile of packages, all strangely wrapped and neat,  
Sat in the corner, right by their feet.  
No stranger could have left them there, that much he knew.  
Thundercracker, surprised, had no idea what to do.

Before he could speak, a great shout was heard.  
All the mechs and humans jumped up as if spurred.  
"Vhat is this?" No one of them knew quite what to expect,  
Because in the middle of the room, Wildrider stood erect.

"I KNEW IT!" he screeched, pointing down at the objects,  
"What's going on?" Rachel demanded, completely perplexed.  
With great cheer, Barns and Jazz confirmed it was no mistake,  
While Thundercracker sat there, wishing he was not awake.

"We've had an intruder!" Vortex cried out in anger.  
"It was just Santa!" Danny said over the clamor.  
"Why so upset?" Barns asked. "What harm can this do?"  
The 'copter replied, "They could be dangerous—it's not safe to assume!"

As the helicopter searched for their guest,  
and Arcee shut off her audios to get some more rest,  
Bluestreak peered at the presents and was clearly delighted  
At the sheer number of toys—there was even a kite!

It took a long time, and Wheeljack's aid,  
For the chaos to subside, and breakfast to be made.  
Outside, Christmas morning was as bleak as the rest,  
But of those in the cave, just a few were distressed.

"This is so nice," Kass said, with a smile at her friends,  
A combination of toys and clothes and other odds and ends  
Splayed out about them as the youngest started to play.  
"While surprising, this was a great way to start the day."

After a while, Danny poked at a package.  
"I just gotta ask, how did you wrap it?"  
Jazz grinned in demur, "What d'ya mean?  
I had nothin' t'doo wit' it—Santa brought these!"

They all rolled their eyes; no one believed him.  
"Okay, I'll admit it," he confessed with a grin,  
"Santa's got helpers, a bunch o' elves, I hear."  
Barnaby's grin stretched from ear to ear.

"You're crafty, you're sneaky, you're clever, I think."  
Rachel said, dryly. Jazz and Barns shared a wink.  
"This will end badly," Thundercracker proclaimed.  
Vortex snarled and scuffled. "Never again!" he exclaimed.

Wildrider did not fully agree, peering at his new gift, a miniature car,  
"How can you not like this?" he demanded. "You're so bizarre!  
I'm having such fun! Let's do this again, next year!" he smiled.  
The laughter that followed made the trouble worthwhile.

And so Christmas morning was spent in a cave,  
Full of laughter and voices and friendship and games.  
It did not take long 'til a moment preordained,  
When Thundercracker was forced to scream, "NEVER AGAIN!"

 **0000**

"…That was the best poem you've ever written, Rachel," Kass said, grinning as she finished reading it out loud.

Rachel put down her pencil, smirking as they watched the chaos unfold in front of them, Wildrider and Bluestreak playing with the toy cars Barns had taken from the last city they visited. "I'm just surprised they thought that far ahead," she admitted, laughing. Thundercracker was yelling at them to shut up. Vortex was still freaking out about "Santa Claus" sneaking into their cave without him noticing.

"Jazz is a planner. Always remember that," her British friend replied, glancing over at the mech, who was looking mighty pleased with himself over the mayhem he had created. Barns and Danny were sitting in a corner reading a book he had chosen specifically for her.

Wheeljack had given up on supervising and joined them by the far wall of their winter cave. "I must admit, it was a clever idea," he said, earfins flashing brightly. "I do wonder, however, if it would be prudent to have a repeat of this next year—"

Before he could even finish, more chaos erupted as Vortex took half of the gifts and blew them up. Three seconds later, both he and Wildrider were in a fistfight headed out the exit of the cave, Jazz and Thundercracker rushing after them. Bluestreak sat and looked at the crushed remains of his toy car mournfully. Arcee was staring at her arm cannons, as if contemplating suicide to escape the noise.

Wheeljack, Rachel and Kass looked at each other and then back out at their companions.

"Never again," the three agreed.

 

 **End** _**Christmas.** _

_**Next** _ **: The origin of TC and Jazz's relationship is explained.**


	30. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

France

 _2034 AD_

How they had lasted as long as they had, Thundercracker had no idea. He had been tempted (many times) to just drop the Autobot into the ocean during their flight to Europe. It would have been the logical, sane thing to do. It was equally logical that the Autobot would come to the same conclusion and somehow turn the tables on him early on in their travels, backstabbing him literally or metaphorically.

Dodging their way across the Atlantic, they made it to Europe, somehow. It was a world not unlike the American one they had left behind; perhaps a bit greener and less barren, but still. The cities were empty and the people scattered, wandering homelessly across the continent scavenging for energy.

They worked together to determine whether the drones in Europe operated in the same way as the ones in America, to establish that it was safe to move around on the coast of France. Once that was done the first thought to cross Thundercracker's mind was to leave. He expected the Autobot to leave as well. There was little reason to stick together; Thundercracker knew more about obtaining alien fuel now because of Jazz, and Jazz had gotten across the ocean as he had planned.

But to his surprise, Jazz never mentioned splitting up. The morning after they had arrived, the mech led the way through a city, chatting amicably, already making plans to travel for an extended period… together. Thundercracker knew that he should have drawn the line there, either flying away or chasing the other mech off—

But he didn't. He let the mech talk and he just walked either beside him or not too far behind.

Thundercracker had not been expecting to fall into a peaceful lull with his strange, unexpected traveling companion. It didn't seem right to be so close to an Autobot. Jazz seemed to think the same of him; they never had their backs turned to each other, ever, not even in recharge. They chose not to sleep in shifts, out of an unconscious realization that they did not trust the watcher not to do something underhanded to the resting one. The intensity of this feeling faded over time.

A year passed in moderate calm. Jazz could be unbearable at times, with his sense of humor, but the Autobot was not nearly as irritating as he could have been; after all, he'd put up with Skywarp for millennia. Jazz tolerated Thundercracker's silence and respected his boundaries—mostly. They worked well together in a fight and collaborated to find sources of energy. They were such an effective team that thoughts of separating eventually faded.

The idea of an interaction beyond teamwork was Thundercracker's, though he refused to take all of the blame. Jazz had to have been thinking it too; the smaller mech would sometimes look at the jet for just too long, or say something that definitely had other meanings. It wasn't awkward but it was improbable.

But the growing need for companionship that was more than just—dare he say—acquaintances became more pronounced as time slowly drifted by them. Avoiding the drones and staying alive were still their top priorities, but the exigency faded. The idea of something as unimportant as carnal pleasure resurfaced as a possibility. Thundercracker personally didn't care if he interfaced with an Autobot or a Decepticon, because frankly it really didn't matter anymore, not here on Earth. He was willing to entrust his life to Jazz, who was the only mech he knew was still alive. In the big picture a little impartial interfacing was nothing compared with that.

That first time, Thundercracker approached Jazz. He had never been one for foreplay, but he thought he should be cautious and give the mech some warning. After thinking further he decided that talking about it would just make it harder for both of them, force them to rationalize this action to each other. He had never been with a grounder before, but he had heard their tire sensors were sensitive, so he ran one hand, experimentally, over Jazz's tire when they stopped to rest one afternoon.

Jazz responded by punching him straight in the canopy. The resulting scuffle wasn't too bad—a twisted knee joint for Thundercracker and several long scratches on his wing and Jazz's shoulder—but it had the unfortunate effect of nearly unraveling the truce between them. He learned quite a lot from the event, with Jazz introducing him to several Cybertronian curses the jet had never heard used before.

He didn't think he would try it again after all of that, both out of self-preservation and because he didn't want to risk their partnership over it.

The second time, strangely enough, was that very evening. And it wasn't Thundercracker who initiated it, either. The two mechs had stayed as far away as possible from each other as they followed yet another deserted road into another deserted city. That evening they took shelter inside an abandoned steel mill. Thundercracker had deliberately chosen to sleep on the other side of the foundry in a corner, as far away from the other mech as he felt safe. He'd done that mostly for Jazz's peace of mind, so he was mildly surprised when his recharge was abruptly interrupted by groping hands and a bright blue visor in his face.

It was not love that brought them together. It was the loss of it, Thundercracker thought in hindsight. It was an act born of lust and a need to connect with another life—to reinforce the fact that they were alive—rather than from any real affection. He thought that would be enough for him, for them both.

Weeks of experimenting turned into another year. Their acts of interfacing were the result of an unspoken agreement between them, one that seemed to grow outside of what Jazz called a "blooming friendship." There were no smiles or jokes from the silver mech once he pulled himself on top of the jet, as if he couldn't be himself at those times—as if what he was doing wasn't his own will. With every gentle touch and surge of electricity Thundercracker himself felt emotionally numb, as if it wasn't actually happening.

The first time Jazz actually extended a hand to hold—a human gesture he must have picked up before—Thundercracker returned the gesture thinking it was part of their silent pact to feel with their bodies rather than sparks.

When his spark flickered in his chestplates, however, he threw the hand away and Jazz didn't offer it again.

Thundercracker preferred the numbness.

 **0000**

 _Western Europe  
2036 AD_

For all of his coolness and collective intelligence, Jazz was actually not easy to get along with. Some days, Thundercracker almost felt a tingle of affection for the grounder, whose quirks had grown from mildly annoying to moderately acceptable. But he suspected that any other Autobot would have been easier to get along with, especially on those days when Thundercracker wanted to kill him. Not because of some inane Autobot sentimentality—that he could tolerate as long as it didn't get them killed—but because of Jazz's horrible sense of humor.

The jokes, the taunting, the teasing—Thundercracker wasn't unfamiliar with it. Skywarp had been just as indefatigable in his "attentions" and far more vulgar in his sense of humor. Sordid and unrefined he could deal with, but Jazz presented a whole new problem.

The day he realized how different Jazz was from Skywarp had been a better than average day. No drones, no bad weather, no wild animals—just them and the still smooth open road in yet another completely empty, completely silent, city. And therein lay the problem.

Jazz hated silence. He'd never admit to being afraid of it, but Thundercracker had figured it out in the first few months of their partnership. He actually liked the quiet and was comfortable with the silence, but he also enjoyed listening to Jazz talking about something he'd seen or heard or learned at some point. He let the Autobot chatter, sometimes replying and carrying on a discussion about art or music or battle tactics, other times just listening. Jazz was a great conversationalist … unless he got into one of those moods where Thundercracker couldn't tell where the humor ended and the insults began, when he wasn't too sure if Jazz was joking or speaking honestly. Thundercracker hated those moments.

"…not like anything I had ever seen," Jazz was saying, talking about a Decepticon base he had infiltrated. Apparently, he had run into the Constructicon team and his cover had been exposed as a spy. "I had seen big 'Cons b'fore, but holy slag, I had no idea you guys came in Monstro size, too!"

Thundercracker scoffed, though he had to agree some of the Constructicons were rather large compared to Jazz. "I am larger than Mixmaster was," he replied. "All of the Seekers are."

"Yeah, but yer not that badass, TC, no 'fense," Jazz countered, meaning offense. Thundercracker glanced over and saw Jazz was grinning at him. Teasing. Challenging.

Generally, Thundercracker had no problems ignoring the comments or the baiting that the smaller mech dished out for whatever reason struck his fancy. But today Jazz had deliberately goaded him on his lack of strength, speed and weaponry far too many times. Thundercracker suddenly lost his well-worn patience. "I could rip you apart with one hand, Autobot," he snarled.

Jazz leered. "Yeah, well, ya had better get yer priorities in order then, _TC_ , 'cause from what _I_ can see, yer not so tough anymore!"

Thundercracker wasn't quite sure how his hand flew up on its own—until that very moment he had been sure he had more restraint than to act on his anger—but the next thing he knew Jazz had been flung away from him and slammed into the brick wall of a building on the opposite side of the park in the broken city center. The smaller mech hit the concrete with a loud slam and went down hard.

For the briefest of moments, Thundercracker was stunned by his own actions.

He had hit Jazz.

That shouldn't have been a problem. He had hit Skywarp many times, even Starscream, when they had gone too far with their teasing or vocal complaints. Jazz had gone too far this time as well.

But…

He had hit _Jazz_.

 _Jazz_ , who was smaller and weaker and kinder and overall _not_ Skywarp. A strange sense of fear overtaking his spark, Thundercracker rushed toward the fallen Autobot, who had only managed to lever his upper-body partially off the ground. Thundercracker could see a decent sized dent on the mech's head and the shards of metal embedded in the brick wall, the brick itself crumbled in a circular pattern in one spot, where Jazz's head had hit the wall.

"Are you functional?" Thundercracker demanded, kneeling as close as he dared, forcing himself not to reach out to the Autobot. He didn't know if the other mech would see him as a threat now.

"Holy slag, that hurt," Jazz said, forcefully cheerful. He laughed, trying to hide the pain that was woven into the sound. "Hah… ouch, ouch, ouch, you hit hard, TC, Primus…"

The laughter, as always. Thundercracker shuttered his optics, angry with the charade and not wanting to put up with it today. He had witnessed Jazz's anger before on various occasions—and he knew that Jazz was angry now. He had a right to be. But Jazz was covering his own emotions in order to keep the peace, even though both of them knew a line had been crossed. Thundercracker hated and feared the laughter more than any angry outburst, because it was _false_.

It didn't seem right. It certainly wasn't fair to deny Jazz his righteous anger. And it devalued their… friendship to pretend he hadn't overstepped a boundary.

Jazz walked it off, claiming it was "cool" and acted as if Thundercracker had merely slapped him rather than punched him. But the tension was back and Thundercracker willed himself to stay far, far away from the other mech as they walked on, the silence returning and neither of them willing or able to fill the void.

They walked another six hours, until sundown, before Thundercracker realized that he had to say something. Jazz refused to even look at him. Overwhelming concerns plagued Thundercracker's thoughts; what if the drones attacked? Would they still be playing the silent treatment against each other?

He was not one to compromise, but in this case, Thundercracker realized it was his responsibility to act. He approached the Autobot as he prepared for recharge. Jazz stared at him blankly, waiting for something to happen, and Thundercracker stared back, standing awkwardly in front of him.

 _Frag it._ "I'm sorry." He was certain he meant it, but it was like trying to drink that awful gasoline substance. Difficult to even fathom having to do, but he did it. For survival he thought.

Jazz just looked right at him for a long, tense moment. Thundercracker waited, the two standing there in silence.

"…Never had a 'Con say that t' me before," Jazz muttered, laughing shortly. "Nah… it was my bad. Shouldn't have been an ass like that."

He refused for it to be brushed aside, not so easily, not without speaking of the true importance of his actions. "I could have killed you," Thundercracker replied, scowling. That was not a matter of if, but a certain fact.

"Yeah?" Jazz shot back, suddenly defensive. He jerked his helm back, as if challenging. "I could kill you too, in case ya never noticed."

Thundercracker stared at the mech, not believing what he was hearing. "…What the frag is this?" he began, temper flaring. He took a dominating step forward, but inwardly he was pleased to note that the mech didn't flinch in the slightest. "Primus!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "I never know when to touch you or when to back off. You never make any fragging sense!"

He was frustrated by three years of putting up with Jazz; Jazz who flip-flopped moods constantly, changed his mind seemingly by the astrosecond, and never _ever_ gave a straight answer. It seemed that the two of them couldn't share intimacy like in a normal relationship— _but what was, between an Autobot and a Decepticon, really_ — and that every day started another guessing game as to what was safe to do and say, and what wasn't. Jazz would get furiously angry over a verbal slight, but he didn't care if Thundercracker nearly decapitated him?

He was sick of this insanity.

"Yeah? Well, you're not 'xactly Captain Obvious either!" Jazz snapped, taking a step closer. He looked ready to start something serious… but then stopped. The silver mech drew back and stepped away, waving his hands dismissively. "Primus… just forget it."

"Why?" Thundercracker demanded, pushing his luck. He grabbed the mech by the shoulder, flinching when the mech winced. He lessened his grip. "What is this to you?"

Jazz shoved his hand away, again angry, but he withheld what he wanted to say. Then his anger seemed to die and all that was left on his face was exasperation. "…I don't know. I don't fragging know, okay?" he replied, harsh. He turned away, the conversation successfully killed by their mutual stubbornness.

None of it was fair. Thundercracker backed off, but refused to touch the mech for a long, long time. He didn't know if it was because he was mad, or because he was afraid of harming Jazz if he lashed out again.

 _Afraid_. Of harming an _Autobot_. This world truly was driving him insane.

 **0000**

 _Spain  
2040 AD_

They had been together for seven years, or at least traveling together for that long. Thundercracker had no idea when the idea of "together" actually entered the picture. He'd stopped thinking about leaving years ago, and then he'd stopped considering himself a Decepticon. He knew that love had come much later, but he didn't know when it had taken root, like an organic weed. It just… did.

He hadn't even noticed it until he made the first mistake he had made in several months. For the last year the two had gotten along amazingly well, and for the first time since Galvatron's fall, Thundercracker almost thought he was happy. The road was not blissful; there were still close calls, rotten fuel and arguments.

But the two of them made it work. He no longer thought hitting the mech was even an option. Jazz couldn't completely resist teasing him, but it was less frequent and less hurtful. They had saved each other's lives until it reached the point where counting did nothing. The old boundaries between them faded, and some days, it was difficult to tell where the Autobot began and the Decepticon ended.

The numbness had faded into something else. Something warm, something worth fighting for. The first time Jazz smiled at him after they interfaced, Thundercracker could only smile back.

That's why when he finally realized that he cared for—loved—the other mech, Thundercracker was just as surprised as Jazz. But what surprised him more was the reaction he received.

Even though their lust had somehow turned into something more pleasant, there were still rules when they touched, when they were intimate. Some things just weren't to be said or thought.

So when Thundercracker whispered unintentionally, " _I love you_ ," neither of them knew exactly what to do next.

Jazz stared at him, visor shining brightly in the dying light of twilight. He was gone in a second, pushing himself away from the jet so quickly, Thundercracker was left lying on the ground, stunned both at his own admittance—

And Jazz's immediate rejection.

After such a long time of getting along… Pit, more than getting along… after years of companionship and reliance on each other, the rebuff was like a slap to the face. Thundercracker scrambled to his feet, trying to figure out what had happened. Jazz was doing his best to act as if he'd never spoken. Anger, resentment—fear—welled up inside Thundercracker.

Words came fast to his processors, before he had the time to consider if it was proper, or wise, to say them. "This means nothing to you."

"What?" Jazz sputtered. He gave the jet an insulted look that seemed forced. "What the slag does _that_ mean?"

"Don't be coy, Autobot!" Thundercracker snapped, hands forming fists. "Here I am, trying to make something out of—of—whatever _this_ is, this relationship, and you don't care!"

The insulted look suddenly did look real. "What the frag? I do care!" Jazz exclaimed, angry. "Primus, what's wrong with you?"

Thundercracker blanched. "What's wrong with _me_? !" he demanded. "You act like this is some sort of game. This isn't a game, not to me."

It had stopped being an enjoyable diversion, ceased to be an act of self-defense… he didn't know when. It just had, as abruptly as the feelings that had appeared in his spark. Un-Decepticon feelings. Feelings he had hidden even when he'd been with Skywarp—now feelings he felt for an Autobot.

"I-it's not a game t' me either!" Jazz said, motioning at himself.

"You act like it is!" the jet snapped, unable to hold himself back now. Every negative feeling he had toward the mech still, all the petty resentments that still lingered in his spark, were springing to the forefront, making his anger swell.

Jazz glared. "If this was a game, I would be pretendin' t'care or pretendin' I didn' care. If it was jus' a game, I wouldn' still be here wit' ya. I'd be lyin' and manipulatin' and playin' and controllin'," he said coldly. "This ain't a game t'me. I ain't lyin' to ya. Ya matter t'me," he said, sadder and softer. As if that were a comfort. Thundercracker didn't know if it was—he didn't know _anything_ anymore, not about this.

"If this matters then act on it!" he shouted.

The smaller mech looked exasperated. "Like _how_? !" As if it were difficult to understand what normal people in a normal relationship did. As if it were wrong—

Thundercracker resisted the urge to scream, mostly at himself. He couldn't stand this uncertainty anymore. "You won't commit, not to me. Not to anything. You live in a fragging dream world where you can pretend that we're not serious, where this isn't real." He loomed, trembling. "You live in denial of it, but this is _real_ , Jazz, whether you want it to be or not!"

"I know it's real!" Jazz countered, looking more and more cornered. "Just stop. Just… stop it. Just drop it and—!"

"I'm _not_ going to just drop it!" Thundercracker yelled back, frustrated. "I'm tired of this being one-sided, with you only playing through the motions of something I want to be real. You say you want to be with me, and actions speak louder than words, but I need to hear the words!"

Jazz drew back and then shouted, " _I can't be with anybody!_ "

Thundercracker froze, as did the smaller mech, who abruptly realized what he had just said. For a sickeningly long moment, Thundercracker wished he were somewhere else—far, far away from where they were. He stared at the mech, as far as he knew, the only other living mech in the universe. In truth the only living mech that he had any feelings for—

He just _stared_ at Jazz.

Jazz, shaking, gazed back at the jet with growing horror etched into his faceplates. "… _Primus_." He took a shaky step forward, hands out, pleading. "TC. Wait."

Spark growing cold, Thundercracker glared. "Forget it."

He turned and walked away. He wanted to just keep walking and never look back—

But he couldn't.

He blamed his spark for his weakness. He blamed the Autobot for causing his spark to be weak, for a caring that shouldn't have been there. He blamed Galvatron for throwing him into a world where he had to team up with that Autobot, for putting him into the situation where he'd been forced to trust the Autobot, where meager carnal pleasure between mutual allies had somehow mutated into something that broke every conventional, rational sense Thundercracker had ever known to be true—

He couldn't walk away.

There was no way he could live on his own. Neither of them could. The drones were still numerous. Teamwork provided the best resources and the best defense against attacks.

Walking away would be a demonstration of tactical stupidity.

But more than anything—if he walked away, he was very certain he'd be leaving another large part of his spark behind. He had done that once at a grave for a mech he often wished he could still hold. But Skywarp was dead. Jazz wasn't. So, he stayed.

Jazz couldn't look at him for the rest of the night. Thundercracker was certain he couldn't rather than he wouldn't. Autobots were far more susceptible to guilt; then again, Jazz wasn't the most Autobot-like of the mechs he had ever met. Still. Jazz did care and was clearly upset about this. Thundercracker pointedly ignored him anyway. He didn't want to talk, because he was certain that if they tried to talk about any of it, they would just have another argument. More than anything, Thundercracker was afraid that neither of them would survive another fight, not anytime soon.

Thundercracker recharged as far from Jazz as he could that night, expecting to wake up the next day and continue on with the silent treatment.

He was not expecting to online at dawn to the feel of silver claws gripping his chest. He didn't move—not out of fear, but out of wary curiosity. He looked up and saw Jazz sitting there, just staring down at him.

Silence, a tense one, could only last for so long. Thundercracker remained firm and waited for the other mech to speak.

Jazz held his gaze for another second before something seemed to crack under his cool façade. Thundercracker watched as the strength buckled and, suddenly, he was looking at the real Jazz.

"I miss him," Jazz stated bluntly. His voice warbled and there was static lingering in his words. His visor, nearly white in color, blazed with emotion. The entire frame of the mech was as tense as a coiled spring.

Thundercracker had a feeling what he meant, but still asked, "Who?"

The mask slipped further and further. Jazz shook violently. "Prowl. Oh, _Primus_ , I miss him," he said quietly. He bowed his head, and words he had probably not meant to tell anyone flowed out. "I'll never stop missin' him. He's dead. Or worse. I'll never see him again. I'll probably die wondering what happened t' him."

Listening silently, Thundercracker began to understand.

The silver mech gripped the jet's armor, until he heard metal creaking. "I used t' think that he would be th' only one I'd ever love, that'd I'd ever…" Jazz looked up at the jet, visor meeting optics, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I _never_ strayed, I _never_ questioned. I loved him, TC. _I loved him_."

"I…" Thundercracker started.

Jazz shook his helm, gripping tighter. He was rambling now. "But he's _dead_. He's _never_ coming back. I knew that… I knew that when I got involved with you. He's never… he's never gonna come back." Jazz laughed, the sound weak, self- deprecating. He looked at Thundercracker again, pathetic. "But I keep thinkin' about him, hearin' his voice… it's not real, but my spark hurts _so bad_."

"I know." Thundercracker shuttered his optics, pain lancing his own spark. "I… know."

He knew what it was like to lose the one soul he thought he would never lose, that he could never replace, the one that he'd hold onto until the end of days.

Those days had come and gone—without him. They had left Thundercracker standing in the middle of the Pit, alone, and Skywarp was never going to come back. No one was.

Claws traced the front of his chest. Jazz was smiling, but it was a sad sight. "I don't wanna hurt you. You deserve better." He shuddered, offlining his own optics. "I… I do… feel for you. I…" He laughed shortly, reaching up to grip his helm, agonized for so many different reasons. "It just hurts so bad every time I realize where I am. I keep wanting t' wake up from this horrible illusion, but it's real, an' it hurts me even _more_ t' think I _wanna_ wake up, after everythin' you've given me. It ain't fair."

Thundercracker watched the mech, his spark hurting faintly. "…No." He reached up and cupped the back of Jazz's head, bringing him down further. Jazz just stared at him, broken. "But it's what we have to deal with."

They couldn't just walk away from this. But they had to try. Or else, they would just offline from grief.

Jazz let his head drop onto the jet's shoulder. "Don't think I don't want you. I do," he said quietly. "You're a kinder spark than me, TC. Stronger, too."

Thundercracker scoffed. "I am no stronger nor kinder." He looked to the sky, suddenly very, very tired. "I… I just can accept the reality of this all better I guess."

That he was falling for an Autobot, when part of his spark still screamed in agony for a mech he had lost only decades ago.

This wasn't fair.

This wasn't right.

But it was real.

Jazz looked guilt-stricken, the first time Thundercracker had ever seen him look that way. "I'm sorry," he said, grimacing at his own weakness, a weakness Thundercracker knew all too well. "I… I can't just forget about him. Not now. Not… right now." He shivered. "Maybe I can move on with just a little more time."

Thundercracker rumbled, looking at the sky as the sun rose up, filtering through dark gray clouds. "We both can," he said quietly, sure of it.

"Do ya still want t' try this?" Jazz asked, hesitant, fearful. Afraid to hear an answer.

"I will if you will," Thundercracker replied, glancing up at him, pinning him with his gaze alone.

Jazz smiled. "I want to," he said, tilting his helm gently, suddenly grimacing. "This is so hard. I never thought… I'd be here."

Thundercracker glared, but it was only out of mild irritation. "With a Decepticon?" he challenged. If the mech actually still thought in terms of faction after everything…

The wry smile that appeared on Jazz's faceplates was both familiar and sparkbreaking. "Fallin' in love with someone else," he replied, tracing absently on Thundercracker's chest. The smaller mech shuddered. "I don't… regret it though."

For once, they could agree. "Me neither."

Jazz didn't seem to want to move; Thundercracker didn't mind just lying there peacefully, together. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from both their sparks. He hadn't felt this calm, this completed, in a long time. Perhaps talking did help. Time would too.

"I'm sorry if I mess up again," Jazz said after a while. He offlined his visor and just lay there, equally peaceful. His tone of voice just slightly turned upward, teasing. "I'll be patient if you are."

A challenge, a joke. So much like Jazz. Thundercracker smiled to himself, content to just lie there for awhile.

"…Fine."

It would take time and effort on both their parts before things really improved between them. Yes, compared to seven years ago, they were far better off, but even after realizing what was truly blocking them from connecting, they had a long way to go. Thundercracker was willing to try. They had already started to fix what had happened, apologizing and making amends. The rest of that day would be a fresh start and he hoped would mark a new starting point for them to proceed forward from.

He had finally begun to see the reasons behind Jazz's laughter in awkward moments or upsetting ones; he wasn't trying to deny things. He was just trying to make them better, to give hope and encouragement and allow them to keep moving on. He realized that deep inside Jazz feared that he would eventually become so weighed down by his past that he wouldn't be able to move forward anymore. Thundercracker knew that sentiment and fought the same inner demons. They just had to work on it together rather than as individuals. It would take a while… but they were on Earth now, and a single day… it lasted a long time.

Bright blue light flashed in his vision as Jazz looked back up at him. "I… love you," the silver mech said, struggling over the words, but succeeding. The fact that he did succeed meant something more than a lie or the lack of words. "I do. I really do."

Thundercracker sighed. "I know." He laughed, startling Jazz. "Primus… this is so wrong." He didn't mean the moment, but rather the ridiculous situation they were in because of it.

Jazz frowned. "I'm tired of carin' that it's wrong," he replied, frustrated.

"Me, too." The jet had to stop thinking about the wrongness and just… make it right. They could do it. He knew they could.

"We can make this work. We just gotta… we just gotta be patient." Jazz made a sour face, the look aimed at himself. "I just have t' stop… thinking so much."

Thundercracker scoffed. "The past is for us to remember," he said, shaking his helm. "It won't go away." He knew _that_ for a fact.

Jazz hesitated. "I don't know how else t' handle this," he admitted.

"Together," Thundercracker said, smiling gently. "We talk about it, remember it, allow it to shape us, but we don't allow it to destroy us. We work through it together."

Their hands found each other and Thundercracker held onto the smaller mech, never wanting to let go again. Jazz smiled back.

"Together," he agreed.

Two years later, they found a ruined camp and a child. Three years after that, they found a scientist and another human… as time passed they found themselves surrounded by nine other lost souls who needed them just as much as they needed each other.

Together, things made sense. Whether or not they were right, or logical—it really didn't matter.

Years later, Thundercracker looked at his life and realized how strange, how horrible it would be for him not to be able to say "I love you" to a mech who so willingly said it back. Memories faded, and the associated emotions dulled, but their love for each other, for the family they had now, did not. With every scrape or fight, every challenge, the emotions would come back stronger and keep them alive.

Things were exactly how he wanted them to be—and he never regretted a moment of it.

 

 **End** _**Devotion.** _

_**Next** _ **: Yes, this time, they do get drunk.**


	31. New Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however. "Hovemech Vorn" © Shantastic.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery, alcohol use, implied sexual situation

 

Wheeljack wasn't quite certain how Jazz had convinced him to do this. When he thought back to the actual event, he realized that pleading, whining and borderline black-mail were involved—and somehow, it ended with him altering the energon converter to Jazz's specifications. He didn't like this, not one bit, but even with support from Arcee and Thundercracker, he was outvoted. The humans were quite enthusiastic about the whole thing once the situation was explained to them.

This would be a terrifying night indeed.

It had all started two days before. Winter was harsh during that time of the year, and after seeing a swarm of drones braving the winter sky, the group had decided to move further into the mountains to avoid any unnecessary complications. They had found a huge series of caverns, all of them wet and freezing, but still they provided far better shielding from the weather and the scans of the drones than the valley just outside. Although they regularly took shelter in caves, they usually planned ahead to choose a dry one. But this storm had come up quickly and driven them to take shelter where they could. They all tried to remember that the storms would let up soon and they would be free to move again and hopefully find a drier and more comfortable campsite. But it was hard.

Wheeljack prayed they all had the patience to survive each other and the lack of entertainment for the duration of their stay. They usually would plan their longer stays in the cave systems by stashing books, planning little diversions and creating games to keep themselves occupied. But the sudden onset of this storm had prevented that. Tempers were already running high—he doubted they'd make it another two weeks without an actual physical fight breaking out between Vortex and Arcee, who had been arguing fiercely for days now.

"We never celebrate it in January, 'Jack," Jazz pled. "Or ever, actually. Come on. It'll raise their morale and make 'em happy."

"Or push one of them to homicide," Wheeljack replied dryly, though he had to agree that it might help to improve their group's temperament, at least for a few hours.

"You're such a pessimist, 'Jack," Jazz said with a pout, looking comical. He had picked up far too many human facial expressions, and not all of them translated well.

Wheeljack sighed heavily. He couldn't really argue that—this war had turned him into a pessimist years before. "Well, in the end, it's not my decision, at least not for the humans," he said at last.

The saboteur leaned forward, gleeful. "Is that a _yesss_?" he asked, grinning madly.

"…We're going to regret this," the scientist said, covering his optics with his hand. "Or at least, _I_ will." He didn't believe in the power making of predictions, but regret was a logical outcome of this set of actions.

Unconcerned, Jazz beamed at him and danced off, excited; he was probably plotting one of the worst ideas he had had in a while, and Wheeljack mentally steeled himself for the chaos that he just knew was going to follow. Most human holidays were simple enough and usually only included the humans. This one, however, Jazz was intent on adapting for the Transformers as well.

Two days later, the storm still had them trapped in the cave and Jazz enacted his plan right on schedule. Wheeljack reluctantly stood up with him as Jazz walked to the center of the camp, waving his hands until everyone was looking at him (they had to wake up Danny and Rachel, but Jazz insisted it was very important.)

"Alright! Listen up, y'all. Me and 'Jack have some plans," Jazz began with a grin. Thundercracker rightfully looked wary. "As you may already know, today is th' day before th' start o' th' new year, also known as New Years Eve. An' tonight, we are gonna be celebratin' a brand new year!"

Bluestreak frowned, tilting his helm. "…Why?" he asked, curious more than anything. Wheeljack had expected the younger mechs not to understand it. While the concept of celebrating a brand new vorn, a Cybertronian year, had been common on Cybertron in the past, the years of war had reduced all such celebrations to nothing more than words and memories.

The saboteur sputtered. " _Why_? Come on! This has t' be the most universal holiday ever!" he exclaimed. "We're _alive_! Healthy, even! And there's a whole new year before us."

"Where we could potentially die a horrible death," Rachel blurted. She looked incredibly disinterested, having been roused from her bed to listen. "Nice. I'm so excited."

Jazz scowled at the human. "No pessimism tonight!" he chided. "We're alive, t'gether an' we're going t' celebrate properly." He grinned again, looking out at the others. "Wheeljack's been a real sport an' rigged up th' energon converter just fer th' occasion!"

"… _Rigged_?" Arcee repeated, faceplates contorting in suspicion and well-earned fear.

Jazz grinned, cocky. "Who wants some high-grade?" he asked, extending his arms as if he were bringing them treasure. Wheeljack groaned.

The expressions on the faces around them ranged from the humans' looks of confusion to looks of exasperation, disbelief and excitement on the various mechs. "Oh, Primus, _YES_!" Vortex exclaimed, sitting upright now, visor flashing brightly.

Wildrider tilted his head, also grinning. "Ooooh, I like this," he said, cackling.

Other Transformers, however, looked startled and downright apprehensive. "Wheeljack!" Arcee cried, looking betrayed. "Are you crazy? !"

Thundercracker dropped his head into his hands as Wheeljack stood back, arms crossed. "I do not approve," he began carefully, eyeing Jazz with unease, "but I do admit it would be nice to be able to unwind a little for some festivities."

"I've never had high-grade before!" Bluestreak said, clearly interested. "I've always wanted to, but it was never really around, you know? Can the converter really make some, Wheeljack?"

Before the scientist could answer, Barns piped up asking, "What's high-grade?"

"Think of it like yer alcoholic beverages," Jazz replied casually.

Wheeljack glared at him. "They're not similar at _all_ , Jazz."

"They kinda are!" the silver mech insisted. "Th' _effects_ are th' same. It's just a highly refined energon that has more of a punch, ya know? It's fer celebratin'."

"Or for cleaning grease out of engines," Thundercracker muttered.

"Sounds delicious," Kass replied dryly. Danny snickered.

Jazz scowled at all three of them, but continued on his sales pitch. Wildrider, Vortex and surprisingly Bluestreak were very interested in having some high-grade.

"Count me out," Arcee snapped, crossing her arms. "I will not impair my judgment on a battlefield."

"We're inside a cave," Vortex shot back. "Not like we're out in the middle of the open."

Arcee glared at him. "Everywhere, we are at risk," she said. Both growled at each other, but thankfully, the humans interrupted the budding fight. Wheeljack watched the scene unfold carefully as he prepped the energon converter for the impatient mechs willing to try the high-grade.

Rachel walked over, Kass and Danny close behind, and peered up at Jazz. She looked curious. "…Wait… do you have _human_ alcohol, too?" she asked, hesitating.

Jazz grinned arrogantly, swaying his hips slightly. "An' what if I _did_?" he asked, teasing. Almost as if on cue, the sounds of bottles colliding gently somewhere in his sub-compartments filtered into the air.

Kass stared at him. "…Jazz, I swear to _God_ , you plan things way too much," she began, shaking her head. "It's like an obsession with you!"

"Is that a 'thank you, I can finally celebrate my coming of age, Jazz,'?" the Saboteur shot back.

"Not Rachel," the British woman replied, suddenly smiling. "She's only nineteen."

"So are you," Rachel shot back, glaring.

Kass smiled innocently at her. Wheeljack, over the mess of trying to get Wildrider away from the converter for the time being, had to smile; it was nice to see Kass teasing her friends as much as they teased her. She was far more comfortable with them than she had been before. "Yes, but England and most of Europe lets people drink at age eighteen," she replied calmly. "Americans can only drink when they're twenty-one, right?"

Rachel sputtered. "I'm _hardly_ an American!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't born there! America's not even a country anymore! And its not like laws are inherited!"

"You just want to get drunk," Kass teased back. Rachel seethed. Barns and Jazz laughed.

"Wait… I'm still confused," Danny interrupted, frowning. "What does alcohol do?"

The other humans looked at each other. Barns smiled, crossing his arms as he visibly looked like he was trying to think of how to reply. "It's… difficult to describe," he began carefully. "It's like when you eat a lot of sugar or caffeine. Only its way stronger and you can act differently."

Wheeljack had to wonder if _any_ of the humans had ever been drunk, but then again, they may have just learned from listening to other humans talk about it. "Yes. There are a lot of types of alcohols. The chemical compounds in the alcoholic beverages are called ethyl alcohols," he added from across the room. The humans looked over at him. "It has a strong effect on the mind and body, so I highly recommend consuming small amounts of it."

Danny made a face. "Oh. Does it make you hyper?" the brunette asked, intrigued.

"No. It makes you _less_ likely to react physically to stimuli." Wheeljack paused. "People who become intoxicated may become uncoordinated, slur their speech or even have trouble standing because their sense of balance is impaired. As Jazz said, high-grade can affect mechs in similar ways, and if they're anything alike, it does impair your judgment to the point you may act differently under the influence—"

Rachel waved her hand at the scientist, now grinning with as much fervor as Vortex had. "Yeah, yeah, spare the disclaimer," she said dismissively. She looked up at Jazz, excited. "What do you have, Jazz?"

Jazz obediently crouched, reaching into his sub-compartment. He pulled out two crates of what had to be alcoholic beverages. Wheeljack couldn't believe for a single moment that all of that was meant for four people to consume! Jazz placed the boxes down in front of the humans, beaming.

"Take yer pick," he said brightly.

The four peered into the boxes, pulling out the various bottles and the more knowledgeable humans in their midst looked shocked.

" _Christ_ , did you raid an entire liquor store?" Rachel exclaimed at the sight of the many boxes and bottles.

Jazz grinned. "Here an' there, yeah. I thought ya'd like th' variety."

Wheeljack glanced at him, frowning behind his mask. "You're encouraging severely destructive behavior," he said tightly. The silver mech waved his hand, shrugging off his concern. Wheeljack sighed and focused on getting the converter ready before the drinking mechs rioted.

"I am excited," Wildrider said, grinning at the energon being made. Wheeljack had to keep himself from smiling again, not wanting to encourage this—at least not too much. Seeing his friends find something to be happy about, even something like high-grade … it was a welcome sight.

Perhaps… a little joviality wouldn't be too bad, he thought to himself. They couldn't exactly make enough high-grade with their limited supplies to really have any of them become overcharged.

The humans, however, were a different story. After researching the matter as the sorting took place, Wheeljack realized that there was no way the four humans could finish off that whole collection. They, if any in the group, definitely could become overcharged. He made a note to keep an eye on them. He couldn't stop them from drinking if they wanted to, but he certainly couldn't let them hurt themselves.

For the humans, the pilfered drinks provided something akin to a seek-and-find game. They compared the bottles and different drinks, instructing Danny and the inquisitive Bluestreak on what drink was what.

"Oh, yeah, you got Scotch," Rachel cried happily. She pulled out a clear bottle, grinning at it in delight. "And Vodka! Score."

"Why doesn't it surprise me that you know so much about this?" Kass asked, looking bemused as Rachel pulled out more bottles of other similar liquids. "My camp was always very dry."

"I remember the caves being really damp, though," Bluestreak said, looking confused. He was over with them until the converter finished up the high-grade.

Kass laughed. "I meant that there wasn't any alcohol allowed there," she explained. "Kept fighting to a minimum."

"Drunken brawls are the best," Rachel said, grinning up at her.

"I do hope you're joking," Arcee said suddenly. Rachel burst out laughing and Kass just shook her head. Wheeljack hoped the girl was speaking in jest as well, but there wasn't a clear way to tell with Rachel sometimes.

Wheeljack had the first batch of the high-grade done ("No, Vortex, you're going to wait until the others have a share, too.") when the humans caused another commotion. Rachel had taken one of the bottles of what he learned was "whiskey" and decided to go ahead and take a drink.

Rachel swung the bottle back, taking a long swig. Wheeljack almost wanted to reprimand her for being so hasty, but thankfully, nature did that for him. Rachel sputtered, whiskey spraying out as she burst into a coughing fit. Kass howled with laughter and Barns, laughing, shook his head. Danny looked like she wanted to laugh, but refrained for her friend's sake.

" _Fuck_!" Rachel coughed. Kass patted her on the back, but didn't stop laughing at her. "Aw, shut up! It's been like twelve years since I drank this!"

"You drank whiskey when you were seven years old?" Barns asked, incredulous.

Rachel scowled. " _You_ try staying warm in negative degree weather with no blanket," she snarled, challenging. Barns backed off, hands in the air. Wheeljack didn't feel the time was appropriate to tell her that drinking alcohol in that situation would probably make the situation worse.

"This seems as delicious as peanut butter was," Danny remarked quietly, looking increasingly suspicious of the bottles. Wheeljack chuckled to himself.

Barns laughed. "No worries. It's supposed to taste bad," he said, though that made NO sense to Wheeljack and he doubted the other mechs knew the sense in that either. Barns held up another, slimmer bottle, looking interested. "Ah, Bordeaux. Nice. It's just the effect of the drink that most people seek, Danny."

"To be overcharged?" she asked, mixing up terminology between their species. Then again, it was rather an apt analogy this time.

"Yes. Well, I guess."

"Not really," Kass said. "My mother… my mother came from another camp to marry my dad. She told me once that when they celebrated special events the elders would allow them to have beer or wine with dinner. She said that specific wines and beers were chosen to enhance the flavors in the food. She missed that." Kass sighed. "So some of these might taste okay."

"Yeah, with a … what was that harvest bird from America?" Rachel asked. "A turncat?"

"A turkey dinner," Kass laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

Sighing, Wheeljack only paid the four organics partial attention as he finished up his part of the job. Arcee huffed and rolled away in disgust, probably to watch from a distance and make sure things didn't get out of hand.

"Please, drink in moderation," Wheeljack pleaded, handing Wildrider and Vortex the high-grade. Both mechs eagerly accepted the cubes and Bluestreak walked up shortly later, excited. "Don't drink it too fast, Bluestreak. Your systems aren't used to it."

"I'll be careful!" Bluestreak said, cheerfully accepting the cube. He stared at it, awed. "Do I just drink it? Like mid- and low-grade?"

"Yup. Don't go crazy," Jazz said, laughing. Thundercracker scowled and refused the offer of the high-grade. Wheeljack was glad only the three mechs were drinking; they wouldn't have enough organic material to make high-grade for all of them.

It didn't take long for the first signs of trouble to occur. Rachel, being true to her hasty nature, started by taking a drink from each of several bottles. Less than an hour into their celebration she was speaking loudly and seemed to have a problem standing up straight. And, of course, she began picking fights with some of the drinking mechs.

"You can't tell me high-grade is worth less than that rubbish," Vortex said, visor narrowed. They were arguing over which substance was better, her drink or his. At least Vortex had the sense to nurse his high-grade along, unlike Bluestreak or Wildrider.

Rachel was adamant about winning the argument. "Fuck you, man, alcohol is better," she said, challenging. "It has flavors an' everything, unlike your shit. All you guys have is the same stuff. Boriiiing."

Vortex's glare remained in place. "At least we don't get over-stimulated at the turn of a bolt," he snapped back. He seemed very intent on not moving at all; probably a good idea. Rachel would probably have trouble ducking even a non-aggressive movement from the mech, she had walked up so close.

"I'm not over-stimulated, asshole," she exclaimed, wobbling on the stone. "I could totally take on some drones right now."

"Right," the helicopter deadpanned.

"Fuck you!"

Across the room, Barns arched an eyebrow, glancing over at Wheeljack. "I think she's an angry drunk," he said carefully as both watched Rachel argue with the helicopter.

"So… there's no change whatsoever for her from her sober state, then?" Kass asked, looking up at the two of them.

Thundercracker snorted. "Ha." No argument there…

Back at the pile of spirits, Danny was still sorting through the selections, having yet to take more than a sip of one or two drinks that looked interesting. Wheeljack had to laugh; she was always very timid about trying new food or drink, so she asked many questions.

After taking a small sip from a green bottle, Danny's eyes brightened and she smiled over at Barns. "I like this," she said. The label was in a foreign language, so she held it out to him to translate. "Bor? What is bor?"

"Hungarian wine," Barns replied, glancing the bottle over.

Danny tilted her head at the wine. "It's not too bad. It's kind of sweet." She took up another bottle and tasted it. Immediately, she put it down, making a face. " _Bleh_. What was that?"

Kass laughed. "Vodka," she answered, shaking her head.

"Gross. I'll take the wine," Danny announced, grabbing the bottle for herself.

Barns looked over at the black haired woman across from him. "Want some Kass?" he offered, picking up a stray bottle.

Immediately, Kass drew back. "No. No, thank you," she said, politely but firmly. "I'd prefer to be in control of myself."

"You don't have to get _wasted_!" Rachel exclaimed from across the room. She had been trying to climb up Vortex's legs, but gave up (much to the helicopter's relief). She walked back over to her friend, grinning. "It's New Years! We have to celebrate!"

Kass scowled. "You can celebrate sober, you know."

Rachel motioned with her hand, not impressed. "Yeahhh," she began, her words slurring, "but this is how they celebrated it back in the day."

" _Back in the day_?" Kass repeated, incredulous. She rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, that was then, this is now."

Barns shoved the bottle her way, chuckling. "Just a little!" he prodded. "Come on!"

Wheeljack knew Kass could be very stubborn on some of the things her friends teased her about, but surprisingly, she gave in quite easily tonight. "…Bloody hell," she muttered. She glanced at the boxes, as if they were full of venomous snakes. "What's the least disgusting kind?"

"Here, have some wine," Danny said cheerfully, offering her a fresh bottle of the drink. Wheeljack chuckled when she refused to lend out her own bottle.

Kass uncorked the bottle with some difficulty. "I blame all of you entirely if something bad happens," she said darkly. She stared down at the bottle before taking a tentative sip. She made a face, but took another drink. Wheeljack couldn't fathom why they continued to drink if it tasted bad! Humans were quite peculiar.

"Like _what_?" Rachel goaded. "I promise if you start makin' out with a rock, I'll stop ya."

Kass sputtered. " _What the fu_ —Rachel!" She put the wine bottle down. "That one doesn't suit me, thanks Danny." She picked up another bottle. "Kriek Lambic? A picture of cherries, hmm… I'll try this one."

"Less than two more hours," Jazz announced cheerfully over the din. He was lounging with Thundercracker; both were abstaining from drinking any of the high-grade, Wheeljack noted.

Not all the mechs seemed to have the same amount of self-restraint, however. Bluestreak had finished his cube hastily and was, as Kass called it, bouncing off the walls. "I like high-grade! It makes my chestplates tingly!" he exclaimed, speaking even faster than normal. "I never thought something would ever be tingly for one of us, but I think that's what it's like, after Danny described that word to me before." He paused and then smiled over at the other mechs. "Is it tingly for you too, guys? Does high-grade made you tingly in your chestplates?"

Vortex grimaced. "Oh, dear _Primus_ , what have you done?" he complained, attempting to shrink back, as if trying to avoid being seen by the younger mech.

Wheeljack sighed. "It won't last." The effects wouldn't, at least; it was such a small amount that it would burn off quickly. Also, Bluestreak was very young and had never had high-grade before, so his systems were not calibrated to hold the charge for a long time. The unusual sensations would fade quickly.

Bluestreak's continual babble combined with Rachel's and Danny's to cause the cave to become very loud. Danny, of course, had become incredibly happy, dashing about, chatting up a storm. She easily convinced Wildrider to join her in some antics (such as swinging from his arm), but Wheeljack quickly ended that. Wildrider might not have been too overcharged, but they could not take chances. Danny instead took to giggling and sitting next to Barns, too buzzed to realize how obvious a flirt she was being. Barns took it in stride, thankfully.

"And _I_ am content with high-grade, thanks," Vortex muttered, finally finishing off his cube as the mechs observed the humans react strangely to their own drinks. It was bizarrely similar to parties Wheeljack had attended on Cybertron before the war.

"That's all?" Wildrider asked, looking disappointedly at the converter.

Wheeljack sighed, placing the device away in his subspace just as a precaution. "Yes, 'Rider," he said, not willing to argue about the matter. "We cannot afford to be using our supplies up."

Wildrider pouted. "No fair. Humans have more."

Thundercracker glanced out at the humans, frowning. "Yeah, and I think we should be cutting them off at this point," he said pointedly.

"I'm not drunk yet!" Danny called out, surprising them.

Kass arched an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Danny. Yes, you are," she replied. Danny just laughed.

Barns stared at the bottle in his hands before pushing it aside. "I am finished," he said, chuckling. "I think two drunkards are enough for one cave."

"I agree," Arcee replied dryly.

Rachel waved at Jazz. "How much longer 'til midnight?" she asked.

Jazz paused, looking at his internal chronometer. "Only about an hour or so," he replied.

Kass, sitting down near Bluestreak, smiled. "I have to admit, I am glad you convinced me to try this. A little is enough for me, but now I understand why my mother missed it." She yawned. "I don't think I've been awake this late since… goodness, I don't know when," she said, laughing.

"Same here," Barns said, leaning back against his bed. Wheeljack realized that they all must be very tired—they'd been up at dawn as usual, and although they hadn't walked anywhere that day, they were almost never awake this late; he made a note to let them sleep in later tomorrow.

"Good thing we're stuck in th' cave fer a bit longer," Jazz added, grinning. "I don't think we'll be getting much travelin' done tomorrow!" The others laughed, agreeing.

Mild conversation continued and Wheeljack hung back, listening in as his friends talked. To his pleasure, the frowns that had remained a constant around the camp for the last few days were being replaced by laughter and smiles. Even Arcee and Thundercracker were being drawn into the conversations. Jazz regaled them all with tales of how Cybertronians celebrated a new vorn. Arcee surprisingly joined in, describing Hovemech Vorn (New Mech Year) parties she had gone to. The younger mechs, like Wildrider and Bluestreak, listened attentively to the stories, just as ignorant as the humans were of the Golden Age culture. Kass told Bluestreak and Rachel how her camp had celebrated something called Calennig on New Years by marching with torches and giving gifts of fruit.

"Maybe we should distract some of the kids before it's time to celebrate," Jazz announced abruptly. He didn't look alarmed, however; he looked dreadfully amused.

"Why?" Wheeljack asked, surprised.

Jazz, grinning, pointed behind him. "Um. Look."

Wheeljack turned around to see what he meant, and as soon as he did, he wished he hadn't at all. Rachel and Kass were talking animatedly with Bluestreak and Wildrider, but Danny and Barns were still by the pile of alcohol. From a distance, and if Wheeljack didn't know either of them, it looked like Danny was trying to kill Barns. However, the scientist knew _EXACTLY_ what had just happened and with a heavy sigh, he stood to intervene.

"Danielle, stop harassing Barnaby," he said wearily. Vortex noticed and burst out laughing. The others then looked up and the laughter that followed (cackling from Wildrider) made Wheeljack grimace.

Danny had somehow pinned Barns down and was hugging him fiercely, giggling over probably nothing. Barns looked incredibly uncomfortable, turning brighter and brighter red in the face.

"Please save me from getting sexually assaulted," the young man begged the scientist, trying to pull away. Danny wasn't moving, however, and clung to his chest.

Jazz leered from the other side of the circle. "I think she likes it there," he said teasingly. Rachel laughed loudly.

Barns, looking incredibly strained, tried in vain to get Danny off of him. "Yes, but before this turns into something we'll both regret, I require assistance," he said, turning a very bright red color; most likely, it wasn't from the alcohol either.

"Haa, he turns into an analytical drunk," Kass giggled. "Nice."

" _WHEELJACK_ , please," Barns suddenly exclaimed, panicked, as Danny suddenly reached down lower. "Before you are made a _grandfather_."

The more coherent members of their group (primarily Jazz and Vortex) burst out laughing again, and Wheeljack sighed, regretting ever letting the silver mech talk them into celebrating this ridiculous holiday. He leaned over and pulled Danny neatly off of the other human.

"Awww, 'Jack," she said, looking crushed as he carried her over to the other side of the room with him.

"I think you should go to bed," he replied, placing her onto her pallet. She sat there, pouting. Wheeljack shook his helm; he was too old for this.

Danny's pout refused to budge from her face. "Awww, I wasn't doin' anythin' wrong!" she complained.

"We don't need any accidents." Wheeljack grimaced. "… _I_ don't need any accidents." Oh, dear Primus, this had been a horrible idea.

"Accidents?" Danny repeated, surprised.

As much as Wheeljack did his best to back away from restricting what Danny did as she grew up, there were some things none of them could risk happening, not in a world like theirs. "I know you are fond of Barns, but like I said earlier, alcohol impairs your judgment," he replied quietly, resolving to remain firm on the matter. "You're a grown woman who has responsibilities, and I _know_ you remember the discussions we had about human sexuality and intercourse. We cannot afford an infant entering our lives."

His charge stared at him for a good minute, digesting his speech, before blurting out, "Sex makes _babies_? !"

Kass, not expecting it, sprayed her beer everywhere just like Rachel had earlier. Said blond woman was too busy howling with laughter in sync with Jazz to give her a pat on the back. Barns resigned himself to burying his face into his hands, probably mortified, while Thundercracker sat nearby with his head down. None of the other mechs really got the situation, thankfully.

Well, this would certainly remain a night they'd all wish never happened, Wheeljack mused, resigning himself to babysitting and explaining, for the second time, the sexual cycle for humans. The other Transformers listened in, intrigued. By the end of the conversation, Bluestreak looked horrified and Vortex was deliberately not looking at anyone, probably panicking in realization of how complex human sexuality was (namely, the sexuality of one of their human companions, Wheeljack had to assume). Wildrider just made jokes over the inadequacies of human bodies and made a lewd joke toward Arcee about how they could show the humans how sparklings were split between a femme and a mech. She responded by hurling a rock into his faceplates.

Yes. At least _HE_ was going to regret this night.

"Less than an hour left!" Jazz announced. Some of them cheered.

"What did humans in the past do for New Years anyway?" Bluestreak asked, curious. "Just make noise?" They had been talking about how Kass's camp didn't use noise makers, which could attract the attention of the drones. They also seemed terribly primitive and useless, in Wheeljack's opinion.

"Yeah!" Jazz replied. He leaned back against Thundercracker with a distant expression as he recalled pieces from his past. "I remember partying with the soldiers at the last real holiday before shit went down real bad with the drones an' all." He chuckled. "There was a glass ball that dropped every year in New York City, over in America. Biggest show around. Parades, parties… just general fun."

"Ha!" Rachel laughed shortly. She sneered. "Stupid…"

Wildrider looked confident. "Ve can make noise."

"Still won't be the same," Rachel shot back.

"So?" Bluestreak asked, frowning. "We're together. That counts."

Kass hummed thoughtfully. "It would have been nice to see it," she admitted. "The parties and the ball thing."

"Thinking about that stuff is stupid!" Rachel exclaimed loudly, shocking Wheeljack.

"What?" Barns asked, surprised.

Rachel took up a bottle of Scotch, but didn't drink from it. She motioned out into the cave, seeing something no one else did. "I mean, _fuck_ , look at us. We're nowhere near there, with those parties and shit. Why bother trying to compare ourselves?"

"It's just fun," Kass reminded her gently.

The blond sent her best friend a look of distress. "Fun to think about stuff we'll never have?" she challenged.

And almost without warning, Rachel's words pierced the mirth. Conversation stilled as the human stared at her friends, caught up by something. Jazz and Thundercracker exchanged a look, and the Saboteur looked ready to say something to calm Rachel down, but it was too late.

"Because—because _look_ ," she began, standing up. She wavered on her feet, pointing up at the roof of the cave, as if she could see the sky, bottle sloshing around in her grasp during the effort. Wheeljack watched, surprised; Rachel looked strangely… possessed by something. "We're out here, in th' middle of nowhere, an' we're celebrating just like them—but we're not them, you know?"

Wheeljack watched her move forward, toward the opening at the other end of the cave. The blond squinted her eyes, staring upward at the sky. As if there were still stars to look at, or a moon to gaze at, above the smog. "We don't have a ball to watch drop, we don't have any fancy lights, we don't—we don't have… parties or anything like that," she said, stumbling over words. Wheeljack was certain, however, no one was mishearing her. All eyes and optics found her, her words suddenly capturing their attention.

"…We… we're just here," she continued. She dropped the bottle and it rolled on the stone, shattering. Rachel looked down at the glass, not moving. She still had the strange look on her face. "Gettin' drunk like it means somethin', but it doesn't."

Turning, Rachel stared up at her friends, looking unexpectedly sober. "Because we're _here_ and not there," she said, quietly.

Kass and Barns stared at her, silent, and Danny had sat up and was paying Rachel more attention than she had before. The mechs were silent as well, taking in what the human female had said. Wheeljack didn't know how to react himself; while he didn't think the moment called for pessimism, he couldn't help but think at least part of her rambling made sense. Rachel stared back, almost realizing what she had just said herself. The haze in her eyes faded and she took a deep breath.

"You know? I've always been jealous of people who lived b'fore this mess. But…" she trailed off. Without prompting, she came back to the campfire and sat back down on the ground, looking significantly drained. "Screw them. I'm happy here. I don't need no freakin' glass ball shatterin'. What th' hell is up with that? Dumbest shit ever. Waste of glass."

The spell of silence broke with that comment. Barns smiled at her. "Yeah," he said, grasping her shoulder, giving it a light shake. "I like our celebrating better."

"Yeah," Danny said. She flopped back onto her blanket, looking incredibly tired. "Jazz… is it almost midnight?"

Jazz, after breaking away from looking at Rachel, smiled down at the other woman. "Twenty minutes. Hang in there, it's gonna be awesome."

The humans put away all of the bottles and sat around, looking increasingly more tired. They stayed awake, however, resolute. Bluestreak kept asking about what Cybertronian parties were like when, suddenly, midnight arrived.

Jazz sat up, cheering. "Welcome to the year 2053, gang!" he exclaimed.

"WHOO!" the (coherent) humans shouted. Bluestreak and Wildrider mimicked them and Wheeljack had to laugh as the group cheered loudly for what had to be the most anti-climatic event he had experienced in a while. That was okay by him, at any rate.

Vortex stared at Jazz. "That was _it_?" he demanded after the cheering subsided and the clock moved on, leaving the party behind.

Jazz sent him a look right back. "What th' frag did you think was gonna happen?" he asked, laughing. "A new year comes every year, but come on. How often do we celebrate bein' alive like this?"

"As long as it's not another countdown to ultimate deactivation," Arcee said suddenly. Rachel snorted.

"No! Don't think of it like that," Jazz chided. He looked thoughtful. "Think of it like… we made it another three hundred and sixty-five days, together, in one piece. We're safe, happy and warm and we're all together."

Barns sighed. "…Not so bad that way, I guess," he reasoned.

"Yeah," was the general commentary. Wheeljack smiled as his friends exchanged pleasant smiles of their own, the silence of the cave comforting. Jazz's speech had an effect on all of them, it seemed.

Kass smiled up at her friends. "Happy New Years, guys," she said gently.

"Happy New Years."

Danny was already asleep by the time Wheeljack decided they had better settle down. The campfire and torches faded on their own and the humans bundled down to sleep. The mechs either transformed or just lay down. Wheeljack himself found a wall of the cavern to rest against, with Arcee volunteering to remain up for the rest of watch duty, having smartly avoided drinking high-grade for such an occasion. The camp became quiet as recharge cycles were initiated and he prepared for a long-awaited rest himself when suddenly, he heard whispers.

"That was stupid." That was Thundercracker. Wheeljack straightened up slightly, listening to the conversation.

Jazz chuckled softly. "You know you had fun too, watching them have fun."

"…You didn't drink anything at all," Thundercracker accused quietly. Wheeljack shook his helm, even with his optics offline; Jazz had probably refrained from drinking just so others could have a drink.

" 'Course not, somebody's gotta be the supervising adult," the Saboteur whispered back teasingly instead. "B'sides, how am I gonna enjoy the show if I'm wasted too?"

Thundercracker rumbled in the darkness. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot," Jazz corrected. Wheeljack smiled to himself.

Thundercracker, for all of his stoic behavior, was undoubtedly smiling back at his mate. "Yes."

Wheeljack sat back further, listening to the sounds of breathing and the sound of the cave walls dripping. Comforting, familiar sounds. He had to admit, they rarely paid much attention to the very important but overlooked fact that they were alive, despite all the odds against them. Even if it was asking for bad behavior, if a little drink once a year provided his friends with something to look forward to, he could appreciate it.

…He sincerely hoped Jazz wouldn't repeat this next year, he thought with sudden worry.

He had no trouble with getting the humans to agree to that sentiment, however, as seven hours later, he onlined to an expected sight.

"Oh, my _GOD_ , my _HEAD_."

Wheeljack refused to even look at the humans as a similar cry erupted from all of them. "Self-inflicted," he replied, unexpectedly merciless.

Danny was half-comatose, refusing to even open her eyes. Rachel was throwing up outside of the main cavern (with Thundercracker hovering worriedly nearby) and poor Bluestreak was reeling from his first night of drinking. Barns and Kass seemed better off, but were incredibly sensitive to lights and noise. Them being inside a cave didn't help much with the noise factor.

"Light-weights," Vortex said mockingly. He looked remarkably unscathed. Bluestreak just whimpered and clutched at his chestplates, which were probably burning in discomfort. Wildrider refused to transform and sulked in car-form, unnaturally quiet. Arcee was quite pleased by that.

Wheeljack resigned himself to babying the humans for the day, as well as the repentant Wildrider and Bluestreak. Yes, they had successfully proven they were alive for another year. As wonderful as that was, perhaps they had learned their lesson about taking their celebrating too far.

Jazz was quiet for a while before he looked over at his friends, grinning brightly. "Hey… you guys ever hear about St. Patrick's Day?"

" _JAZZ_!"

 

  


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**End** _**New Years** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Rachel and Barns have a fight over a book.**

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**

**A/Ns** :  
\- " _You_ try staying warm in negative degree weather with no blanket." – Alcohol causes your body to rise in internal temperature, i.e. that guy who survived the _Titanic_ sinking and being afloat in freezing water for hours, because he was drunk. :P Wheeljack never heard this story, however.  
-Seriously, New Years is terribly anti-climatic in my opinion. All that work for sixty seconds of "yaaaaying" and that's it. XD We are a strange, strange species, guys.


	32. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to warn everyone now that this chapter has some ideologically sensitive content, specifically about religion and spirituality. I apologize if it offends you. If you find that sort of thing uneasy to read or get easily riled by anti-religious discussion, I'd recommend you skip this chapter. I felt it may have been necessary to bring up ideology within the story at some point, including the pessimistic sides of things.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery, sensitive ideological discussions

 

It had been a regular day. Jazz hadn't seen any problems in their group before; they in fact had had a rather calm day. No fighting, no awkward tensions—their group had moved through the mountains with calm ease. He liked days like this best, even if they were kind of boring. He'd take boring over complete emotional meltdowns of his friends anyway, he reasoned in hindsight.

The weather had taken a slight dip and it was much colder than it had been earlier in the week. They hadn't been expecting it when they had taken shelter in series of caves, so they had only enough firewood for their cooking fire. So, even though it really upset Barns and Wheeljack alike, they had to use what they had available to make a fire for the humans: books.

"I feel like I'm murdering our culture," Barns lamented, even as he tore pages out of a magazine to put onto the fire. The paper burnt quickly, so they would usually put lots of papers on and then the covers of larger books.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather be warm than read right now," Kass shot back, firm. Jazz knew she enjoyed reading like the others did, but she was incredibly no-nonsense about survival situations.

They had amassed a rather sizeable book collection over the years, raiding libraries and bookstores here and there throughout the European landscape. Finding ones in languages all of them could understand wasn't too difficult, but they could only keep the ones they really liked, to save on space. That unfortunately made these burnings rather difficult.

"I wish there was a way to avoid this," Wheeljack said, despondent.

"Gotta be done, 'Jack," Rachel replied. She was upset about having to do it as well, given her own writing hobbies.

The mechs stayed out of the way mostly. Wildrider suggested blowing up part of the cave for heat, but that was thankfully outvoted as an option. Jazz himself settled in next to Thundercracker to observe the humans. He was a bit tired from traveling that day, personally, so he opted to just sit around instead of trying to get a conversation going. Wheeljack was working on getting him energon anyway, so he was content to just lay there for a bit.

And then… out of nowhere… trouble erupted.

Rachel had gone over to their collection of books and began to shuffle through them, looking for firewood candidates. Jazz had watched in passing, but he had noticed the strange facial expression she made when she picked up one book in particular that lay at the bottom of the one stack. She stared at it for a second before standing and turning around, apparently deciding it was fit for the flames.

Unfortunately, as she began to tear pages out of the back of the book, Barns looked up at her. Jazz watched his expression change from mildly curious to utterly horrified in mere nanoseconds.

"Rachel!" he exclaimed. He dove towards her, trying to stop her from tearing the pages anymore. "What are you doing? !"

Rachel glanced at him, suddenly defensive. "What? It's fuel," she said. She moved back away from him. "We can't afford to waste anything."

Barns stood up, trying to grab it away again, desperate. "R-Rachel, that's not a book! That's a _Bible_!" he cried. He grabbed the one side of the book, yanking it toward himself.

"So? It's a fucking book!" she had begun to say, but as soon as he tried to pull it away form her, she stood up, pulling it back. " _HEY_! Back off!"

"Give it back!" Barns snapped, making the mistake of grasping her wrist.

"What the—don't _touch_ me!"

Even Jazz knew not to get physical with Rachel when she was angry. She kicked out and both fell to the ground, the book soaring up and landing feet away. Rachel scrambled to her feet and Barns was quick to stand behind her. Both aimed for the book, but by that point, others were getting involved.

"Whoa!" Danny yelled, dodging Rachel. Many of the mechs stood up, alarmed at the sight.

Barns got to the book first, but Rachel dove low enough to snatch it back. Both humans fell to the ground in the first scuffle Jazz had ever witnessed in their group between the humans, wrestling over a single book. They weren't trying to hurt each other (too much) thankfully, but if they didn't stop trying to get hold of the book, this was not going to end well.

"Stop fighting!" Bluestreak shouted, looking horrified. "J-Jazz! Stop them!"

Scrambling to his feet, Jazz decided to do just that. He rushed over to the two humans, reaching down to pull them apart. It was almost startling to realize how easily he could do that too, considering how small they were. "Whoa, whoa, everyone calm down!" he snapped, depositing each of them at a good distance from each other. "Rachel, give him back th' book!"

Rachel, struggling to sit upright from the position he dumped her in on the ground, quickly got on her feet. " _Christ_ —you guys are retarded! It's just a book!" she shouted, anger marring her facial features. She took one look at Barns and then hurled the book at his feet. "Here, fine! Take the stupid book!"

"Why are you so angry? !" Barns demanded, eyes huge. He crouched, taking the book up to his chest protectively. "This is a holy book! It's part of my faith!"

"It's a book—not some relic!" Rachel stood back and her anger suddenly grew cold. She threw her hands up in the air, backing off. "Screw it. Whatever."

She stomped off, past the stunned Arcee, and headed right out of the cave. Jazz was shocked. "Rachel!" he called. Ignoring the others, he sped out after her. He didn't want to have to chase her down into the sparse valley. It was too cold and there was no cover from the drones.

Luckily, she didn't go far. He found her at the bottom of one of the inclines, staring out into the cold air, shaking. Jazz walked up carefully, wary of scaring her off now. Rachel's mood swings could radically change at any given moment.

"Rach?" he called tentatively.

She didn't turn around. Standing there quietly for a moment, the two endured the howling wind and cold until Jazz was certain Rachel finally couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"What?" she snapped, not turning around.

Jazz frowned. He could hear the others talking loudly back in the cave, probably trying to figure out what had happened. Although he'd traveled with Rachel for far longer and knew her better than anyone but maybe Thundercracker, he was at as much of a loss as they were. This was more than Rachel being angry at Barns for holding her wrist; this was deeper than that. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. He came up behind her, crouching so his knee almost touched her back. "Come on… talk t' me."

Rachel tensed up. "Fuck off."

"Hey!" Jazz exclaimed, flinching back. He crouched over more, visor narrowing. "You look ready t' beat th' slag outta somethin'. What's wrong?"

Rachel scoffed darkly. "Besides the fact that Barns is pissed at me now?" she shot back, sarcastic.

Frowning, Jazz didn't exactly know where to go with that. "You _did_ kinda almost burn that book of his and you _did_ start a fight with 'im," he replied. She didn't react, so he continued to ask, "What book was it, anyway?" From what Jazz remembered, Barns had found it in a city several months ago. With all of the shuffling of items they did, it was quite possible even Rachel didn't know he had picked it up, hence her reaction to it now.

There was a long pause. "It's a Bible," Rachel replied, terse.

A quick reference into his notes on human culture cleared that name up. "That's a holy book for the Christians, right?" he asked gently, trying to coax her into explaining herself more. "…That's a pretty important book, ain't it?"

Rachel's entire body tensed up. "Only if you believe it is," she said through gritted teeth. Jazz wondered if the cold was doing that, or her temper.

Taking a moment to digest that statement, Jazz started to understand. "…I take it you don't," he said, again careful where he tread. Behind him, he knew Thundercracker had stepped out of the cave to make sure they were okay. Thankfully, he knew to hang back. Jazz doubted Rachel would put up with too many people right now.

"I believe in it as much as I believe that Galvatron is fucking Santa Claus, Jazz," Rachel replied hotly. "I hate that book. I hate everything and anything to do with that book." She stared out into the gray mountains, unnaturally bitter. "I would rather see it burn."

He… had no idea what to say to that. He didn't know much about Earth religions, but he knew it was important to Barns. Rachel had never volunteered any information on what she believed… and he had never asked. "I…" he began.

Rachel shook her head sharply. "Fuck religion. Fuck all that shit," she said. The firm, harsh tone of voice she'd had earlier began to waver, just slightly. "Christianity, Islam, Judaism—I've seen all the types in the camps. It's all the same fucking bullshit. I hate all of them."

"…I didn't know." Jazz frowned. "Ya never told me you had such a problem with it." He knew she didn't believe in a god, but he never knew she had such strong feelings against the whole notion of believing.

Closing her eyes, Rachel looked pained. "I… don't want to talk about it."

"It's upsetting you. Or it upset ya at one time," Jazz replied quietly. He hated seeing her like this. He had no idea how easily a fight like this could have just erupted. "I'm here to listen, Rachel. You know that."

Opening her eyes, Rachel sneered at nothing. "…I hate religion," she said shortly. "I hate God, if he even exists. If he does, _fuck_ him. I hate him. I _hate_ him."

There was a long pause. Jazz knelt there, waiting. He wasn't going to go back in without Rachel, who seemed fixed on remaining there until she froze solid.

But somewhere, in the mask she had built to hide her emotions, there was a leak. Jazz watched as her glare began to weaken and she looked like she was struggling to keep it up.

And then, she spoke. Quietly. Reluctantly. "I remember… being so cold. And so hungry. All the time. We were in camps. Me… and my mom. It was so, so cold." Rachel looked up slightly, eyes shining. "She… believed in a higher power. A god. He would save us, she said. He would save us."

Turning around, Rachel met his optics, looking far weaker than she had moments earlier.

"He never did," she said simply. "Not dad. Not my sisters. Not mom." Jazz froze. Sisters? _SISTERS?_ Rachel went on, not noticing his reaction. "He never saved me either, but I'm still alive because I didn't sit around waiting to be saved. I didn't…"

She laughed, trailing off. "Forget it. I admit, I'm bitter. I don't want to talk about it." Rachel closed her eyes again. "Tell Barns I'm sorry for freaking out. Just… don't pretend that shit matters in front of me. Please."

Jazz stared at her, feeling stunned and alarmed by all of what she had just told him. He had never heard of one sister, let alone multiple ones, before. He wanted to ask her about that, about her mother—

But he knew this wasn't the right time. He smiled gently at the human.

"…I'll tell him," he agreed. He held out his hand. "But you should really be th' one who does, you know. Let him know what's wrong."

Rachel stared at his hand for a moment before taking a claw in her own hand. She squeezed it once and then turned around for the cave. She walked past Thundercracker and disappeared inside. The talking stopped, but there was no indication of another fight. Jazz waited a moment before starting his own trek back up the incline. He _really_ didn't want to go back inside. The tension was going to be awful.

"What happened?" Thundercracker asked, concerned, when he reached the top.

"I think we're going t' have a problem fer th' next few days," Jazz warned, glancing into the cave. Rachel had exiled herself to an empty corner, intent on avoiding the others. Only Wildrider and Bluestreak were staring at her in open shock, but the others were sensible enough to just focus on ignoring the situation. Barns still looked mad.

The next few days were not going to be easy.

 **00000**

 _She was so hungry, she thought she was dying. She clung to her own arms, shivering not only from the cold, but also hunger. Her stomach was alive with torment and scraped at her chest. Rachel shuddered and tried to look for her mother in the crowds of people. It was a new camp, so none of the faces were familiar. Since Abby was dead, she had to sit by herself, trying to appear small and invisible, after her mother left to get food. Rachel whined and curled up tighter. She was so, so hungry._

 _Mother returned after almost an hour. Rachel looked up in hope as the grey-haired woman walked up hurried, clutching a package to her chest. She sat down next to her daughter in their pathetic arrangement of blankets and rags used for bedding._

" _Mommy, I'm… I'm hungry. Mommy," she whispered. She crawled over to her mother, who was unwrapping a square shaped parcel. A pang of pain rippled through Rachel's stomach. "Did you get food?"_

 _Her mother wrapped an arm absently around her daughter, drawing her closer. The warmth was appreciated, since fires weren't allowed after dusk. "I know, I know, baby," her mother said quietly. She seemed excited over something as she fumbled with the parcel. "Look. Look at what mommy got."_

 _It was a book. Rachel stared at it, confused. Her mother was running her hands over the front of it as it were made of something precious, like gold. Where was the food?_

 _Rachel whimpered, sinking down lower. "I'm hungry," she whined, gripping her mother's arm, fingernails scraping the worn fabric. She didn't want a book. She wanted food._

" _Do you know what this is, Rach? This is an old, old book," her mother continued, as if she hadn't heard what Rachel had said. She opened the cover, showing off worn pages full of black ink and some colored pictures. "It was written way before your grandma and grandpop were born. Way before their grandparents, thousands of years before. It's called a Bible. It's God's way of talking to us."_

" _Mommy, I'm hungry," she whimpered again, burrowing her face closer to her mother's side. A spasm gripped her stomach. "Please."_

 _Her mother didn't look at her. "Listen. Listen with me," she began fervently. She opened the book to a page and began to read, "_ In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters _…"_

 _Rachel closed her eyes, forcing back tears. She opened them and saw the weathered book gleaming upward like a beacon in the night. Her mother's voice droned on and the cold gripped her bones._

"…called the dry ground 'land,' and the gathered waters he called 'seas.' And God saw that it was good _…"_

 _She quickly learned to hate that book._

 **00000**

The next few days were so awkward. None of the mechs knew how to handle the situation—this was trapped in the realms of the social structure the humans had set up. Bluestreak was amazed that it had taken him so long to realize that there were two sub-cultures in their group. There was that main one concerning all of the group, and then the mechs' social network… now he realized that the humans had one too. And now, that one was terribly disrupted. The problem between the humans now caused a lot of problems within the larger social structure they had devised for the eleven of them to co-exist in.

Rachel and Barns weren't speaking. Both claimed they weren't angry with the other, but even Bluestreak could tell they were still upset. They wouldn't sit near each other, or talk, or even look at each other! That was how Vortex and Arcee fought, mainly, but Bluestreak didn't like it when any of them argued. He had never seen the humans fight like that before, ever. It was… startling.

What if they never stopped fighting? What if they never spoke again? Bluestreak knew it was silly to worry so much about the future like that, but he couldn't stop the doubts. What if they never recovered from this?

What was worse was that the more they all dwelled on the argument, the more people sided with one or the other. Jazz seemed intent on keeping Rachel from getting too upset, so he and Thundercracker didn't talk too much with Barns. In almost similar fashion, Danny and Wheeljack seemed to side with Barns and were reluctant to speak with Rachel.

The others seemed to pick sides as well, but more because of belief issues than anything else, Kass explained. She didn't care about religion too much, so she didn't want to get involved. Arcee was a strong believer in Primus, from what Bluestreak could tell, so she leaned more toward Barns' case, while Vortex, of course, was with Rachel. Wildrider, even though he wasn't the brightest mech, was positively torn, but did believe in religion. He didn't like the fighting, however, so he stuck to the sidelines with Kass and Bluestreak. Bluestreak absolutely abhorred the arguments. It wasn't fair. He was very glad the humans rarely ever fought. It seemed that made it easier for the mechs to split up, too.

It didn't take much for it to spill over, either. Bluestreak wanted to ask Rachel what was still wrong (wasn't the scuffle _over_?), but stayed back, because he knew if Jazz couldn't smooth things over, it was probably very serious. However, Danny was just as much a peacemaker as the silver mech could be. She tried to speak with Rachel one night after dinner, but unfortunately, it didn't turn out as planned.

"We didn't think it mattered that much to you," Danny said quietly. Everyone in the camp was listening in. Rachel noticed and tried to draw back away from the conversation, but with Wheeljack and Barns standing there, she didn't have much room to move away.

"I hate it," she replied shortly. "If he exists at all, I hate God."

Barns, still irritated, sputtered, "How could you hate _God_?" Bluestreak wasn't really certain how that worked either.

Rachel shot him a harsh glare. "Hey, that's a faith, isn't it? Or is misotheism worse than being atheistic?" she demanded. Bluestreak was pretty sure she was being sarcastic. He had trouble telling sometimes. Rachel huffed, looking away. "I just can't see how it's possible for a god to exist. At all."

"Just because you don't believe in something doesn't mean you have to be cruel to other faiths," Barns replied, frowning deeply.

"Y-you don't get it," Rachel said. Her glare remained in place, but there was a wobble in her voice. "Faith is just—it's just a _coping_ mechanism—one that gets people _killed_! It's a hazard!"

At that, Barns drew back, shocked. "What? !"

"I don't care what you believe, but the moment you start heaping praise or critique onto a deity, that's when I'm out," Rachel continued, the anger returning. "Screw all of that."

Barns glared back at her. "My _faith_ kept me alive all these years."

A bitter look crossed the other woman's face. "Ha! I've heard _that_ before," she sneered. Bluestreak had no idea why she was reacting the way she was, but it was frightening him.

Crouching, Wheeljack spoke quietly. "What do you believe, Rachel?" he asked, earfins flashing gently.

Standing there hesitating, Rachel stared up at the mech. She looked like she didn't know what to say at first, but then, the expression changed.

"I'm the master of my own life—not some deity who thinks shoving sentimental bullshit down my throat is going to help me!" she replied. She clenched her fists. "In case you haven't noticed, we're alone down here. He was never here at all. He doesn't care about us—otherwise, we'd either all be _dead_ , or none of this would have happened in the first place!"

"You don't know that, Rachel…" Wheeljack began, shaking his head.

"You're the scientist, Wheeljack," she challenged back. "Where's _your_ proof?"

Wheeljack tensed. "I found an infant lying in her dead mother's arms," he replied. He didn't sound angry, but he was definitely defensive. "The child should have been dead. I was given the chance to save her. I have received happiness from that child ever since."

Rachel stood upright to her full height, matching his defensiveness. "God didn't kill my parents. He didn't kill Danny's, or Barns's or Kass's—God didn't even send the drones here in the first place." She took a deep breath, staring right at Wheeljack. " _This_ is created, made. Man or mech made. _This_ is what we—Transformer or human—are capable of doing to each other. God… God is only an excuse we use to give ourselves hope, make ourselves feel better when things go wrong, or to make ourselves feel safe and loved when things go right. It's only us down here, 'Jack. That's all there's ever been."

"That is a lonely way to live," Barns said lowly, arms crossed.

"I don't think so," Rachel replied heatedly; yes, there was definitely sarcasm in her voice. "At least I know for a fact who's got my back in a fight." She glared. "Or at least I _did_."

Barns bristled, but Bluestreak could see that he was hurt by her comment. Rachel dropped the discussion, using Thundercracker as a shield to avoid the others. Bluestreak whined lowly; he just wanted them to stop fighting.

"It'll blow over eventually," Kass said soothingly. She patted his leg. She had been over to talk to Rachel earlier, but knew to give the woman space. "Both of them can be very stubborn, but sooner or later, Rachel's going to crack."

Bluestreak frowned. That sounded ominous. "And then what?"

Kass stared out at their friends, worried. "…I don't know," she admitted quietly. "But the fight will be over."

None of them could afford to be fighting now, as they traveled in the wilderness. Bluestreak, regardless of the nature of the fight, prayed for it to end quickly and without as much drama as possible.

 **00000**

 _The attack came without warning. Rachel shook her mother awake the moment the alarm was raised. Drones and gunfire shrieked overhead. They abandoned their beds and just ran. It was all they could do._

" _To the forest! They can't catch up so easily!" Rachel cried, yanking her frail mother to behind her._

 _Dodging falling debris and falling bodies, the two fought their way through the chaos. A drone spotted them once and Rachel screamed. Luckily, its attentions were diverted when the soldiers began to fire on it. Rachel led her mother through the carnage and they escaped to the edge of the camp. The drones, although Rachel didn't think there were that many today, made quick work of their defenses. The camp would not recover._

 _That wasn't Rachel's concern, however. She needed to get herself and her mother out. They could make it. They could get out and—_

 _They made it as far as a large pile of boulders when her mother suddenly gasped, forcing them both to stop._

" _The book!" she cried. She spun around, yanking her hand away from Rachel's, and started to run the way they had just come._

" _Mommy, wait!" Rachel yelled. She tried to follow, but her mother was too fast. "Stop! Mom!"_

 _Her mother ran away, going back toward the camp. Rachel stood there, watching, her mind temporarily frozen by the realization of what was happening._

 _Mother left her there, in the open forest. The screams of death filtered overhead and the drones shrieked in monstrous victory as the reds of fire and blood painted the forest._

 _Rachel stared out at the path for a long time and her mother never came back._

 _When dawn came, Rachel realized that she wasn't abandoned—_

 _She realized she had been alone for a long, long time._

 **00000**

Jazz waited. He tried to act as peacemaker for the group as much as possible, but this really wasn't something he could jump into. He and Thundercracker both wanted to help Rachel get over whatever was bothering her, but it was clear that this was a bit more complicated than just a little fight. If it had been anyone else, he would have insisted apologies be made, but… yeah, he was a little biased. He knew Rachel better than the other humans might have; there was no such thing as an easy apology concerning her.

He decided to just let it run its course. Jazz was not expecting Rachel to apologize, not when she seemed as angry as she had.

But by the fourth day, he saw Rachel change from stubbornly angry to almost nothing at all. She just sat there by them, wrapped up in her thoughts and Jazz didn't want to disturb her progress. It was easy for people to assume she was just anger and sarcasm all the time. But she had not had the convenient (if there still was such a thing) life Kass had enjoyed in the camps, or the stability Danny had had growing up with Wheeljack. Rachel had grown up apparently alone with strangers, without a home and without a friend. Things were a bit more complicated when it came to her emotions than Jazz thought most of them realized.

So, finally, the moment came when those emotions became unmanageable. He had hoped Rachel would follow his advice and just tell Barns what was bugging her so much about the whole thing, what had happened to cause her to react the way she did.

To his surprise, she did.

"Barns," she said abruptly, ignoring how every optic and eye was on her the moment she spoke. It was after dinner, so they were left standing around a campfire inside another cave they had taken shelter in.

Barns stood up and nodded. Rachel stared at him and he waited patiently. Rachel was clearly struggling to find something to say, but finally just closed her eyes and exhaled.

"…My mother traded our supplies for a Bible once." Rachel opened her eyes. She took a shaky breath before continuing. "All of them. I… didn't eat for a week. All for a goddamn book. She traded rations for trinkets—prayer cards, rosaries, _blessings_." She spat out the last word, as if it was difficult to say.

Barns' look of irritated faded fast. "I…" Jazz felt just as surprised; Rachel never talked that openly. She kept going, too.

"I used to believe because Mom said so. But she was so caught up with her stories and rosaries, that I was the one who had to go get food… look for it, sometimes beg for it" she said, trembling. "She'd pray every night and tell me that God would help us. We just had to believe." A disgusted look crossed her expression suddenly. "Well, she certainly believed. And that belief _killed_ her."

She turned away, arms wrapped around herself. Barns stood there, still stunned.

"Rachel…?" he began, hesitant. No one else moved, except Rachel, who moved further away. She was breathing like she was about to say something else, but she didn't say anything.

Jazz wanted to reach out and let her know it was okay. This was probably the most difficult thing she had ever experienced and he hated not being able to help her get past it. But he remained where he was, knowing that this was between Rachel and Barns now to fix up.

Rachel turned and gave Barns a wild look, crying now. "H-how can a god let this happen? I—I just—how? _How_?" she demanded, near hysterical. "I _wanted_ to believe. I _needed_ to. But I couldn't. Because I—I could see how much it wasn't true. No one is coming for us. No one is going to _save_ us. It's just… us. Only us. My mother was a fool."

Barns just stared, unable to say anything. The others had similar expressions. Thundercracker leaned forward, probably intent on breaking up the conversation, distressed over Rachel's distress, but Jazz held him back silently. This had to happen. Given the silence, Rachel kept talking, rambling more than she probably had intended.

"How could she do that? H-how could a mother do that to her child?" she said, gesturing wildly at herself now. She looked severely upset. "I was always so cold and so hungry, and all she cared about was that stupid fucking book that didn't do shit for us. It made her feel better—but never me." That bitter look returned and she laughed, at herself. "I guess I'm just selfish for saying that. Maybe, I'll go to hell for it too, if God does exist. But you know what Barns? I don't fucking care. Bring hell. It's not going to be any worse than this place!"

The only real noise was Rachel's breathing after that. Barns looked like he wanted to say something, if only to calm her down. But finally, Rachel just looked back at Barns, spent.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, wiping her face. Jazz, despite how seeing her so upset hurt him, smiled. _Growin' up sucks, kiddo._

Barns looked stricken. He was always easy to forgive, no matter the offense, thankfully. "Rachel… I'm sorry," he said, speaking quietly. He stepped closer and spoke sincerely. "I didn't… I didn't think that this was as serious as it was."

"No… I… _Goddamn it_ ," Rachel sputtered. She looked up at him, trying to calm down. "Barns… I'm sorry. I'm a fucking mess."

"No. I understand," Barns said, shaking his head. He tentatively reached out and grasped her shoulder. She just stared at him. "You are a strong person to have survived all of that, Rachel. Some people need a god to survive a world like this, but… not necessarily." He smiled, though he didn't look particularly happy. "I believe because I believe. I respect the fact that you can do without it."

Rachel hugged him, miserable. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," he replied, sounding honest. Jazz sighed, relieved.

This was all they had. Just… the eleven of them. Breaking up, splitting up… it wasn't even an option, under any circumstances. They were a family, surviving a wasteland, a metaphorical and sometimes literal hell on Earth. They could only succeed if they worked as a single unit. Fights were natural, but they overcame them. They all knew they had to.

Jazz was glad the ending to this wasn't just because of diplomacy, however. He watched as the two humans made amends, honestly trying to fix things rather than just gloss over hurt feelings just to survive. They were friends, not just teammates. The tension in the group faded and the others smiled too. This was a good way to end this, he reasoned. In fact, he could not have hoped for a better way.

Things had a habit of repairing themselves within the group after a big fight. Rachel and Kass talked for a bit and Barns joined in, the conversation directing them to neutral territory. Dinner plates were cleaned and bedtime approached. Jazz had to admit, he wasn't too surprised when Rachel abandoned the campfire to approach him and Thundercracker toward the back of the cave they were currently in.

"Well, that was embarrassing," she began, exhaling sharply. She stood in front of them, looking awkward.

Jazz could only grin. "I'm real proud of you kiddo," he said, meaning it.

Thundercracker rumbled. "Yes. You chose the mature course."

Frowning, Rachel looked away. "Right…" She scoffed; she was trying to play off her embarrassment, as usual. Jazz liked that they were returning to the usual, however. "I never thought I'd rant about that stuff. Never thought it'd be such a big deal. Sorry… to, like… have brought it up."

"The past is important to discuss," Thundercracker said suddenly. He tilted his helm at her. "Otherwise, repressing it will only harm you later."

Rachel laughed sharply. "Ha… I see that now," she said, looking grim.

Jazz looked down at her. "I… I didn't know you had a sister, Rachel," he said carefully. He had never thought to ask her about any siblings. She never seemed to be sensitive about her family before, so he never thought to ask if anything had been wrong with it.

Still frowning, Rachel didn't seem to get overly upset at his mention of it. "They died a long time ago, way before mom did. Amy was five and Suzy was only a year older than me, and that was after dad died. I don't remember them very well. I was only three or four," she explained casually. "It was just me and mom… for a while."

Rachel stood there for a moment longer. The sounds of beds being made and mechs setting up for watch duty filtered through the air. Jazz watched his adopted charge shift on her feet, something clearly on her mind. Rachel sighed quietly.

"I miss my mom," she said, barely louder than a whisper. Such an admittance was probably very difficult for her.

Jazz frowned, sadden. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he said. "We're still here. All of us. We love you." Thundercracker tilted his head, agreeing silently in his usual manner.

Rachel sniffed. "…I used…" she began, faltering. She looked up at them, eyes shining. "I used to not believe in that either. Love. But I do now. Because that's real. Because… love goes both ways. Unlike other things."

Smiling, Jazz cupped her toward him and Thundercracker. "You're right about one thing, kiddo. We gotta look out for ourselves. It's the only way we're gonna be wakin' up tomorrow, or livin' t' see the end of another fight," he said, smiling. "We can do that together."

"…Yeah." Rachel sighed. "…Barns must hate me."

"Nah," Jazz said, shaking his helm. "We're all entitled t' our own beliefs. You just gotta be courteous t' other people."

Rachel didn't look happy over that. "It's hard to let go of hate," she said quietly. "Just like love. For all that she failed to do… I still love my mother." She looked up at him, her eyes shining again.

Jazz smiled. "Good," he replied. "We can make up and make things right tomorrow. For now, let's get some rest." They desperately needed it after that sort of scene. He was pretty sure Bluestreak was scarred for life after trying to understand the human emotions being tossed around this whole time.

Rachel stood there quietly, glancing around the cave. The fire was dying and the other humans were all bundled down for bed. Turning her head, she looked up at Jazz. "Can I sleep with you guys tonight?" she asked, almost timid.

She hadn't asked to sleep with them for a long time. Jazz laughed and motioned her over between himself and Thundercracker, who also smiled at the request.

"Sure thing," the Saboteur said. Rachel smiled shakily back at him and, in an action that was reminiscent of their earlier days when it had just been the three of them traveling alone, curled up in his hand. She didn't fit entirely, not anymore, but that was okay.

Thundercracker, with his wings as a hindrance, moved over so he could lean toward them both, covering them with his wing, head near Rachel, supportive. Jazz settled down for the much-needed recharge; it had been a long few days.

The darkness was really beginning to fall in their corner, when after a few minutes, Rachel looked up.

"Jazz?" she asked suddenly, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause. Rachel shifted and he could see her eyes reflecting in the almost-darkness. "Would you leave me behind for the All Spark?" she asked.

Jazz stared back, visor glowing at its lowest light setting, and he just… looked at her. He wondered if she had ever asked her mother that, about God instead. He wondered what kind of answer she had received from the older woman.

As for his, it didn't take him a second to figure out his response.

"No," he said, quietly but firmly. "I would give up everything first."

After losing everything, losing everyone he had ever loved and cared for in a war that had no meaning anymore—

Was that question even really a question?

"…Thank you," Rachel said quietly. She buried herself against his hand, clinging to him tightly. Thundercracker moved closer, as if trying to shield them all away from the world. Jazz offlined his optics.

Whether or not they were alone in the greater scheme of things… it didn't matter. Not now. Not here. Jazz leaned forward, toward his family, toward the only things that mattered in his life.

He didn't need anything else.

 

 **End** _**Faith** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Wildrider meets a bear. (Yes, THAT story. Finally.)**


	33. Blur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the bear chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery, abuse of wildlife

 

When he looked around the campfire that morning, Barns realized that there was something unusual about the scene, but it took him a while to put his finger on what it was. Eventually he realized that it was the fact that there was not a single Transformer in sight. He couldn't remember the last time he had not seen at least one of his metal friends around the campfire—it was probably before he and Goddard had met Vortex. But there was good reason for their absence.

Their last fight with the drones had been rather nasty, and Wheeljack had needed to use up nearly all of their mech "medical supplies", which consisted of spare parts from earth vehicles and other machinery. In the aftermath of the patch up, Wheeljack had (rightly) insisted they find machinery to replace the missing parts—

and sooner rather than later. So he assembled a list of necessities to retrieve and as soon as they came on a decent source of spare parts, the mechs agreed to dedicate a few hours to cannibalizing cars or other machines . Luckily, just a few days later they had camped just a few hundred yards up from what appeared to be a crashed convoy. A perfect location, it seemed.

Normally Kass would have been out with the mechs, retrieving parts. She was at least as skilled as Wildrider at detaching parts, even if she couldn't lift them. But it was cold out, and she had opted to stay near the fire for a little while longer. Barns himself didn't mind the cold too terribly, but the girls tended to be far more sensitive to it. That day, knowing that they would just be waiting around for the mechs to finish pulling parts, they had kept the fire going for longer than usual as they puttered around finishing their chores.

It made sense. The humans were all adults and they were perfectly capable of handling twenty or thirty minutes alone at the camp. Scans told them that there were no drones nearby, so it was safe to assume they'd be unbothered.

They were in the mountainous northern region of the former country of Italy. They'd been in this area several times before, and to be honest, Barns had not expected to run into much of anything up here. None of them had. The girls were chatting quietly around the fire as they did the dishes and sorted out their packs for the day. He listened only partially to their conversation, not that it wasn't interesting. He was more content with just lazing about the fire than anything else. The flames of the fire wafting heat toward him, Barns was concerned that if he wasn't careful, he might just fall asleep again—

 _Craaack_.

Barns froze, suddenly awake, and beside him Danny tensed up. All four humans looked at each other in cautious alarm, before looking up at the forest. It was quite possible, the Frenchman had to consider, that it was just their mech friends. The sound of a branch cracking was a common sound for them to hear, but not a sound they would ignore without knowing what caused it.

Standing up slowly, Barns peered behind them, in the direction that their mechanical friends had gone. He wasn't sure where the sound had originated from, but he could sense no movement in the trees in that direction. It was a very cleared out area, too, so he didn't see anything else that could have made the noise.

If it hadn't come from behind them… Barns turned slowly around, catching Kass's worried expression for a moment, before inspecting the trees in front of them, which had more undergrowth.

"You heard that too, right?" Rachel asked, wary.

"Yeah," Danny answered. She bit her lip, worried. "Maybe we should go get them."

 _Snap!_

Kass jumped and all four of them looked wildly around. There was no clear way to tell where the sound had come from, as it echoed throughout through the woods. Barns strained his eyes to see if there was anything obvious in the woods, but there was nothing. Perhaps… perhaps it had just been a sound coming up from where the mechs were working. But Barns couldn't help but be incredibly uneasy about the whole thing. Something just felt wrong…

He stared into the trees behind them, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. The back of his neck broke out in a cold sweat, despite the cold temperature around them.

Behind them was clear. In front of them was clear. Turning slowly, Barns tried to brace himself.

To the right of them?

A giant, heavily breathing, rank and monstrous looking brown bear peered out of the undergrowth.

Barns stared at the creature, his heart literally stopping within his chest. He wanted to say something, but words failed him. _Thought_ failed him. All he could manage to think was the fact that he was staring down a creature that, without a doubt, could kill him within seconds.

He was not alone in this observation. Kass gasped sharply and froze up next to him. Her gasp alerted Rachel and Danny, who looked around in surprise. Their expressions immediately morphed into various expressions of horror and terror. Rachel started to stand, but froze as they all realized the same thing: they were facing down a bear. Barns just stared at it, waiting for something to happen as it lumbered into their camp, scavenging for food.

"Oh… God…" Kass whimpered. She made a tiny movement, brushing against Barns' arm.

Barns glanced at her quickly, trying not to turn his head while doing so. "Don't move," he said, as quietly as possible. "Don't… don't scare it." If it charged them, they were essentially helpless.

The bear seemed very intent on checking out Danny's backpack—it was the closest to the creature. The four humans, frozen in their places, watched as it clumsily tore the back open and started munching on something. Barns felt fear rise up anew within him; the bear looked extremely thin, with missing patches of fur. What bothered him most was its strangely unsteady movement.

Rachel, always one for action, kept looking at Barns erratically. "H-how are…" she began, not as quiet, but she inhaled sharply when the beast turned to them again. " _Oh man_ , it's looking right at me."

Barns returned to watching the bear. It didn't seem to notice or care about them, but something else about the situation was beginning to bother him. The bear was drooling everywhere and almost appeared intoxicated. He had seen that kind of behavior in a dog before, when he was younger.

"…Alright, I need you guys to get ready to run, okay?" he began carefully.

"What?" Danny asked, her voice high-pitched. She gripped the back of his coat. "You just said not to move."

"Look at its mouth," he replied. He gestured slowly with his head. The bear was tearing the bag open now, but it was only clothing in there. "Rabid."

Kass looked over at him, now even more concerned. "We get back to the mechs and get picked up and let them handle it," she said in a hurried whisper.

"I can reach my gun," Rachel whispered suddenly. She lifted her hand slowly toward her bag, lying only a foot in front of her.

Barns looked down at her, frantic. "Don't!" he warned.

It only took a second for everything to go wrong. The bear stopped ripping into Danny's bag and it looked straight at them. Barns stared right into its eyes. Only a few seconds probably passed as the bear realized they were standing there.

And then it charged with a heart-stopping roar.

"RUN! RUN AWAY!" Danny screamed. She took off running and Barns was right on her tail. The two other girls didn't hesitate either.

Many things happened in those few seconds, Barns realized later. He was running with the other three, there were loud crashes in front of them now, which he later realized belonged to the mechs, and he wasn't totally sure, but he thought he had seen a flash of red burst out of the trees to the right as they ran towards their friends, towards safety. Barns could hear the heavy panting breaths of the bear and then a sudden roar, and he focused his attention on running faster. He and Danny got as far as five yards from the campsite when he dared to glance behind him.

The bear was right there, almost upon them. Barns started to yell, his adrenaline surging, but suddenly, something else happened.

"—VHAT THE FRAG—!"

And before Barns could blink, the bear was gone. Like… completely out of sight, as if it had never existed in the first place. Wildrider was suddenly ten feet closer than the other mechs who were emerging from the woods, leg half-lifted into the air as if in mid-kick, and he looked stunned by something Barns knew he had just missed seeing. The other Transformers sped out behind Wildrider and everyone began to talk at once but Barns was trying to figure out what had happened.

…Did Wildrider just… _punt_ the bear?

"VHAT VAS THAT? !" the red-and-black mech shrieked. He looked just as freaked out as the humans did.

Rachel was freaking out even worse now. "Holy shit, holy crap, what the hell—!"

"VHAT? ! _VHAT VAS IT_? !" Wildrider kept screeching, but no one was answering him. They were busy worrying about the humans.

Answers could come later, Barns decided. He grabbed Danny by the arm, urging her forward. Better to be off the ground now and figure out answers _after_ they weren't in danger of being eaten alive.

 **0000**

Jazz wasn't quite sure what they had just run back into. He had thought leaving the humans to their own chores for half an hour would have been fine. They were adults, they could handle themselves.

To find them all in a state of sheer panic and Wildrider equally freaking out, Jazz couldn't help but feel a little concerned. He tried to ask what had happened, but the shouting of the others drowned his questions out.

Kass ran over to Bluestreak frantically. "Up, up, pick me up!" she was yelling. Bluestreak complied immediately, now very alarmed himself. Jazz could sympathize with the gunner's confusion; the humans rarely demanded to be picked up since they found it degrading. Obviously, something had spooked them.

"What's going on?" Wheeljack demanded over Wildrider's rambling and the humans' talking all at once.

" _Un ours! C'était un ours!_ " Barns said. He dragged Danny over to Wheeljack and the scientist grabbed them both up. "Bear! Bear!"

A bear? Jazz stared out at their camp, stunned. He thought he knew what a bear was, but why…?

"It tried to attack us! It was rabid!" Rachel exclaimed. Thundercracker picked her up without a word, lifting her up to their level. She looked incredibly frazzled. "W-we were going to run for you guys but it jumped up and was coming at us!"

"Where is it now?" Wheeljack asked, earfins flashing. Next to him, Arcee charged her weapons and the other mechs looked equally ready for a fight. Jazz knew they could just scare off a normal animal, but if it was sick, then perhaps they would have to use force.

However, the bear was no where in sight.

"Wildrider—he—!" Barns was trying to say, but his explanation was lost to Wildrider's increasingly demanding voice.

"VHAT VAS THAT? !" the red-and-black mech asked again, louder than ever.

"It was a bear!" Kass exclaimed. Everyone looked at Wildrider, who appeared to be very concerned over this explanation for some reason.

"BEAR? !" Wildrider jerked back, sending her a disturbed look that really didn't seem right for the usually upbeat mech. " _Vhat the frag_ —IT VAS TRYING TO _EAT_ YOU!"

Jazz snorted; the way Wildrider spoke, it was almost an accusation toward the humans. Unimpressed, the shivering Rachel glared back at him.

"Yeah, that happens on Earth," she snapped angrily. "Greetings, welcome to Earth, we eat each other here."

The look Wildrider had on his faceplates was priceless—it was a cross between alarmed and severely disturbed. Jazz didn't really understand why the mech would be that upset.

"What'd you do, 'Rider?" he asked, confused still.

Wildrider glanced at him, shrinking away from the ground. He kept looking down at the ground, slowly walking back toward a tree. "I… don't know," he admitted. The way he was walking was odd.

"He… kicked it," Barns stammered. "Over there." He pointed toward the other side of the camp. Jazz couldn't see anything strange about it, though Danny's pack was in shambles.

Wheeljack seemed to notice the problem first. "…You just kicked it?" he asked, curious. Everyone, again, looked to Wildrider.

The sports car hesitated, which he almost never did. "Yes."

"Wait." Jazz leaned forward, visor brightening. "You _kicked_ th' bear away?"

"Yes!" Wildrider snapped, irritable.

Jazz glanced at the humans, a grin working its way onto his faceplates. "Like a fraggin' _football_?" he asked, unable to hide his mirth. Oh, _MAN_ , that was—

Wildrider sent him a startled look. "Like _vhat_? !"

"Why are you so panicked?" Arcee demanded.

"It vas trying to _eat_ them!" Wildrider snapped, motioning wildly toward the forest. "Like big dog, only vith large face. Twice their size! _Everything_ eats _everything_ , it is disgusting and—!"

Jazz watched the mech ramble (or rather, _bitch_ ) and he did his best not to laugh. The tension in the group slowly faded as Wildrider nattered and they began to look at each other, bemused. The bear, no matter how scary it had been, was seemingly no longer a threat to them.

Arcee and Vortex returned with the good news that the bear had not survived its encounter with Wildrider's foot, and the humans were all significantly relieved. Rabies was not something to belittle, Wheeljack warned. If any of the humans had been bitten, they almost certainly would have died since they would have had no treatment available. That only seemed to make things worse for Wildrider, who seemed terribly disturbed over what had happened in the last hour or so. Perhaps it was the fact that he had moved without thinking to save the humans, or… or it had been the idea that a simple thing like a kick could do such devastating damage to an organic creature.

"What if he had missed and hit one of the humans?" Thundercracker demanded, irritated.

The humans were more concerned about the state of their camp. "My bag!" Danny exclaimed, upset. Wheeljack told her they'd have to get rid of most of the stuff the bear had touched, because rabies was carried through the saliva, which was all over her clothing. Luckily there were two other girls to share clothes with her, even though (in Rachel's words), Danny was a midget compared to them.

"How did you know it was sick?" Wheeljack asked Barns, after directing Arcee to vaporize the contaminated supplies.

"Goddard and I discovered a rabid dog once," Barns explained, frowning. All four humans were incredibly jumpy now and only sat down near the renewed fire if the mechs sat down too. "He shot it, but I remember him telling me all about the disease. I'm a little paranoid about it."

"For good reason," the Autobot scientist replied promptly. "We should probably burn the body of the bear. Just to be safe and prevent any other animal from contracting the disease."

"I hate this world," Vortex muttered darkly. Jazz just laughed. The crisis was averted, as far as he was concerned, so he could laugh at it. Wildrider had finally calmed down and allowed Wheeljack to look at his damaged leg. He was currently sitting behind Danny, looking miserable. He would not get too close to her, or any of the other humans, giving them suspicious looks every once in awhile. Jazz snickered. The mental image of him rescuing the humans… oh, Primus, he couldn't stop imagining it. Still… it was very interesting that Wildrider had seen the bear as a threat to the humans and acted to protect them before any of the rest of them had even noticed.

He wasn't the only one to ponder the situation, now that things were calmer. Danny peered at Wildrider, frowning curiously.

"…He _kicked_ the bear," she said at last, looking back at the others. Jazz grinned when he saw she was smiling, teasing.

Barns, exhausted, glanced over at her. "Ten points," he said, jokingly.

"Lions and tigers and bears... oh my," Rachel deadpanned. Barns snorted.

"What was the phrase?" Kass asked, then she laughed. She held her hands up in the air. "Touchdowwwwn." Rachel burst out laughing.

Wildrider, of course, did not think it was funny. "Shut up!" he hissed. Jazz, despite laughing more, was also surprised. Wildrider _never_ spoke that negatively toward the humans. He wasn't angry, however; he was doing a remarkable impression of what Kass acted like when she was scared by some prank by Jazz or Barns.

Reaching over, Danny laid a hand on Wildrider's leg. She smiled winningly. "We know you'd never hurt us on purpose, Wildrider," she said. "You did the right thing."

Wildrider peered down at her, unconvinced. Jazz paused; the red-and-black mech suddenly didn't seem to have the same uncontrolled glint to his optics. He looked rather… serious.

"I am _Decepticon_ ," he said, coldly. At least his accent was still there; Jazz would have really worried if it hadn't. "I am built to _destroy_."

Of all the things to worry about. Jazz looked away, laughing quietly to himself. For most of the others it was easy to forget their origins. It was always surprising when a mech like Wildrider had guilt, or doubts. That soothed Jazz's own fears immensely when he realized that if Wildrider remembered his origins so clearly (and critically), the chances of him acting out like a Decepticon were even less likely than say, Thundercracker.

 _Mech's full o' surprises_ , the Saboteur thought, glancing back at Wildrider, who continued to sulk.

"You _were_ a Decepticon," Kass said, smiling gently. The two other humans nodded, agreeing.

Scowling, Wildrider didn't look at any of them. "…Hn." He attempted to cross his arms (his armor made that difficult) and glared at nothing. "I hate bears."

They laughed and did their best to lift his spirits. Jazz had once thought it to be a mistake, to let a mech like Wildrider tag along with their group. He hadn't regretted it in a long time, however, after seeing how surprisingly dedicated Wildrider could be to the wellbeing of their group as a whole. Perhaps the Gestalt mentality was instinctual, or Wildrider just honestly liked them. Jazz could count on him to watch out for the more dependent humans.

However, four weeks later, Jazz regretted not laying out further ground rules for Wildrider, because as much as his dedication was endearing and trustworthy, Wildrider was, well, _Wildrider_.

Climbing up a mountain path, Jazz had thought Wildrider was only a few yards behind him when suddenly, the other mech let out a sharp cry.

" _BEAR_!"

A cannon blast echoed through the forest. Jazz winced and in front of him, Thundercracker groaned.

"THAT WAS A _WOLF_!" Kass yelled angrily after several agonizing seconds of silence. Jazz shuttered his optics.

"TOO MUCH LIKE BEAR!" Wildrider shot back, the trees shaking behind Jazz. He didn't even want to look.

Jazz finally glanced over at Wheeljack, who had a very sour look to his optics. Both sighed.

For the benefit of future endangered wildlife, they would have to have a chat with Wildrider about when and how to handle natural threats. Cannons and kicking? Last resorts.

 

 **End** _**Blur** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: The humans have no idea what goes on inside the Transformers during the day. Unfortunately, the mechs** _**do** _ **know.**


	34. Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

Using the comm. links was dangerous. They never knew how close the drones might be, nor did they know how much of their transmissions the drones were capable of picking up at whatever distance. Jazz knew for a fact that some channels used to transmit across extreme long distances would attract a swarm (probably because they used a much stronger signal), but for the last few decades, he and Thundercracker's experiments with radio—what humans would have referred to as CB—had proven to be successful. It wasn't like they were looking for mechs on distant bases to hear them. Jazz had given up on a resistance group a long time ago.

For their group's general purposes, a modified version of the old CB Radio system worked just fine. CB didn't use too much energy (unlike their radar arrays) and was less likely to bring the drones down on their heads than the longer-range short wave radio transmissions would do. It was incredibly useful when they did have to split up, in say, a city for supplies, or if someone accidentally strayed too far away from the main group.

Sometimes, it was just useful to avoid speaking out loud. Not for the drones, however; if they were close enough to home in on the transmissions, Jazz knew it was too late to do anything but fight anyway. No, they used the radio for other creatures in their midst.

The humans didn't have the internal radio capabilities that the mechs had due to their _squishiness_. Jazz knew that if they knew how much the mechs communicated internally, they would get upset, even jealous. He had to agree that keeping secrets from specific members of their group was bad, but sometimes a little discretion was necessary to keep the humans from being upset by small problems, or to keep them from becoming involved in larger problems—sometimes the humans couldn't do much to help.

 _::I thought I saw some movement up ahead,::_ Bluestreak announced. Jazz was both listening to the transmissions and continuing the conversation he was having with the kids about what American cities had been like.

Wheeljack only glanced at the gunner, the gesture unnoticed by the humans below. _::Most likely just some deer,::_ he replied. Emotion was not translated well through the transmissions, but that was okay considering how they were all right near each other.

 _::The Isen River should be close, guys,::_ Jazz announced. He smiled as Rachel shared a small story she had heard from her mother that she had learned from her grandparents about New York City.

 _::Right. It must be within the next quarter mile,::_ Wheeljack replied. _::Mind the trees ahead.::_ He spoke mostly for their taller group members, who had to duck often when they took these extreme back roads.

Vortex grumbled lowly, ducking a low branch along the path. _::All I see_ are _trees,::_ he added. Radar did very little for finding the natural sites they used to orient themselves with.

 _::Yeah, it would help if we had updated maps,:: Jazz_ said, feeling wistful. Their collective archive of old GPS maps only did so much for them when in the wilderness.

 _::Perhaps through trees—ah.::_ Wildrider stopped, tilting his head to the side, and he seemed to focus on the incline to their right. _::I hear vater.::_ Jazz didn't hear anything yet, but Wildrider had keen senses.

Vortex glared at the red-and-black mech. _::For Primus' sake, stop the fragging accent in the comms.::_ Jazz snickered out loud; there were no spoken sounds in the comm., but he and Wildrider both managed to convey their chosen word stresses and dialects through the transmissions. It was an art, he decided.

 _::Jazz-Boss uses one!::_ Wildrider countered challengingly, even as he inched closer to the incline's edge. It was lined heavily with trees, so he had to fight his way closer.

 _::His is more of a speech impediment,::_ Thundercracker deadpanned. Arcee made an amused sound far ahead.

Jazz shot the mech a dirty look _. ::Hey!::_ Vortex chuckled, which made Barns glance at him in surprise.

 _::Wildrider, mind where you—,::_ Wheeljack was saying.

And then the tree holding the bulk of Wildrider's weight suddenly disappeared—and so did Wildrider. He yelled in surprise as he tumbled down the incline, which was thankfully not that steep after all. The Transformers all flew closer to the edge to see where the other mech went and the humans cried out in surprise when they noticed what had happened.

There was a long pause. _::…Found river,::_ Wildrider suddenly said, sounding gleeful, but strained. Jazz saw him a few yards down, sitting in the middle of a shallow part of the water. The weak current explained the lack of noise, he mused.

Thundercracker shook his head, even as Vortex and Jazz laughed at the mech at the bottom of the ravine. _::You are an idiot.::_

"You okay, 'Rider?" Danny exclaimed, walking up to the edge of the incline with the other humans.

Wildrider looked contemplative. "I think I squished fish," he admitted, glancing at his backside. Jazz only laughed harder.

"Jesus… you guys never pay attention to anything around your feet," Rachel complained, walking off in a huff.

"Yeah, you'd think they could multi-task," Kass added with a sigh.

Jazz, chuckling, didn't try to correct them. Thundercracker and Vortex grabbed Wildrider out of the ditch and they kept going, following the river toward their next location.

 **0000**

 _::Vortex?::  
_

 _::What?::_

 _::Did you have a nice recharge cycle?::_

 _::What the frag—yes, now leave me alone.::_

 _::Vortex?::_

 _::For Primus' sake,_ what _?::_

 _::Hi!::_

 _::STOP PINGING ME USELESS GARBAGE!::_

 _::I just wanted to say hi!::_

Barns had absolutely not idea why Vortex suddenly spun around and punched Bluestreak in the helm (not too hard, but _still_ ). Kass yelled in protest, but strangely enough, Arcee did not react as angrily as Barns would have expected her to when a "Decepticon" attacked an "Autobot." She just shook her head and drove past the two, grumbling darkly. Jazz separated the two mechs, looking amused, and the mechs all went back to traveling silently as if nothing had happened.

Aliens were very strange.

 **0000**

 _::The child is asleep.::_

 _::Finally.::_ Thundercracker's electrical field shivered delightfully as Jazz climbed his way on top of the jet. The smaller grounder leered at him. _::Well, are ya just gonna sit there?::_

 _::What would you want me to do, then?::  
_

 _::Talk dirty t'me.::  
_

 _::The humans have corrupted you horribly.::_

 _::It'll be fun, TC. Come on.::_

 _::We should keep in mind that the child is right there.::_

 _::Exactly why we should keep this b'tween us.::_

 _::If you want dirty, I could just throw you down and take you_ and _half the forest down with us.::_

 _::Yeaaah.::_ The entire tree behind him seemed to creak in protest with the added weight between the two Transformers as interlocked as they were. _::Talkin' violent durin' a 'face? Such a 'con. Makes me feel kind of badass.::_

 _::Figures you'd go for dangerous mecha.::_

 _::Th' wings are kind of a plus.::_

 _::It also figures you'd be kinky.::_

 _::I've seen ya lookin' at my struts, too. Don't deny it.::_

 _::Yeah, well—::_

"What's all that noise— _JESUSFUCK WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING_? !"

Jazz froze entirely, but Thundercracker had the sense to chuck the smaller mech off of him as ten-year-old Rachel promptly stepped out from her tiny camp and was gazing up at them in horror.

"Are you two having _sex_! ?" she sputtered. Even in the darkness of the forest, Thundercracker could easily make out the disgust in her expression.

After clambering to his knees with some difficulty, Jazz was struggling to come up with a reply to that. "Technically _no_ …" he began, glancing at Thundercracker nervously.

"Then what the hell? !" Rachel continued. She threw her hands up, aggravated over something Thundercracker couldn't understand. "I thought you were robots! Since when do robots feel each other up? !"

"We can have affections," Thundercracker replied, awkwardly, looking back at Jazz. The Saboteur looked just as unsure of how to continue the conversation. The jet had been quite sure that humans saw intimacy as normal. He remembered hearing that sometimes _all they_ _did_ was focus on intimacy. Why was she so upset about it now?

Rachel stared at the two of them for a long minute. Finally, she backed up a little, more irritated than anything else. "At least be _quiet_ about it!" she snapped. "I'm trying to sleep!"

"Oh." Jazz tilted his head. "Okay. Sorry about that, kiddo." Thundercracker resisted the urge to drop his face into his hands.

Marching off through the trees back to her bed, Rachel was grumbling darkly. "I thought teenagers at camps were bad. At least you don't have dicks," she said, sarcasm potent even at midnight.

" _What_?" Thundercracker demanded. He looked down at Jazz, severely confused.

The stricken look on Jazz's face alarmed the jet. "Suddenly, I think we should just drop th' entire conversation," he said grimly.

And when _Jazz_ of all people said _that_ , Thundercracker didn't argue about it.

 **0000**

 _::If I increase the compounds, we may be able to have triple the amount of energon from each conversion we make. It would greatly help us in the long run.::_

"—and I'm not really sure if he likes me or not, 'Jack."

"I'm sure he likes you, Danny. He is very pleasant toward you."

"Yeah, well, he's pleasant toward everyone, even Rachel. No offense to her. Seriously, though? I mean, I don't know if he _likes_ me."

 _::I dunno, 'Jack. What're the chances it'll work flawlessly?::_

 _::I am certain I'll have complete success in the first try. It's not a complex formula.::_

"I wasn't aware you were aiming for that sort of relationship with Barnaby. He is a very nice boy."

"Yeah, but he doesn't notice me. I think he's doing it on purpose."

 _::Yeah, I can imagine, but we're in the middle of no where, not even near a town. What if ya need more supplies?::_

"I am sure he is just shy, Danielle."

 _::I've built better in worse conditions, Jazz, believe me. Just a little time and I can have this up and running.::_

"Yeah, well, it's annoying. Rachel's saying he's sending 'mixed signals,' whatever those are—' _Jack_!"

Wheeljack paused and glanced down at his charge, who was draped over his legs. "Yes, Danny?"

"Are you even _listening_ to me?"

"Yes, of course I am."

"Okay…" Danny took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, that's what has me worried. You don't think he's sending mixed signals do you? And what does that mean? Do you know—?"

 _::Maybe you should wait 'til we're closer to a town, 'Jack.::_

 _::Oh, bother.::_

 **0000**

 _::Ahh. Nice planning. Decided to go behind her on purpose?::_

 _::Shut the frag up, grounder.::_

 _::I am observing coincidence. Straaange coincidence.::_

 _::Wildrider, seriously, shut the frag up.::_

 _::…You think of her aft, yes?::_

 _::PRIMUS HELP ME, I WILL_ KILL _YOU!::_

Wildrider broke off cackling out loud, ending the private comm. link, though Thundercracker and Jazz both sent them suspicious looks.

Vortex _hated_ walking behind Rachel on a narrow path.

 **0000**

 _::Wheeljack, I have a question.::_

 _::Make it quick, Bluestreak. Thundercracker's picking up drone movement to the East.::_

 _::I know, but this has been bugging me all day. I mean, I should have asked one of the humans, but Barns told me last time that the girls were very sensitive about their bodies. That doesn't make much sense, either, now that I'm thinking about it. If it's a natural thing like they say, why are they so emotional over it? Shouldn't it be a common thing for them to talk about, if its common to experience—?::_

 _::Bluestreak! What was your question?::_

 _::What's a cramp and why does it make Kass have to reverse purge so often?::_

 _::… Now is_ really _not the time, Bluestreak.::_

 **0000**

 _::I think ya should ask him out.::_

 _::Jazz, if you value your comm. link capabilities, I do not recommend you continue this conversation.::_

 _::Come on, Arcee,::_ the wily Saboteur teased. She only continued to glare at him from across the camp. _::'Rider's a good mech. With some loose bolts, yeah, but who ain't got them lately?::_

 _::I am_ not _having this conversation.::_

 _::He's never done anythin' but help us out, help_ you _out. He's a nice guy. He seems t' have taken a likin' to ya at least.::_

 _::You are impossible.::_

 _::What, do ya_ not _like him?::_

 _::I like him enough not to rip his sparkcasing from his chestplates.::_

 _::Well, it's a start, I guess.::_

 _::Jazz, I would rather you not talk about this in front of the others, please. It's aggravating.::_

 _::Oh.::_ Jazz trailed off. He looked away, awkward. Arcee scowled.

And then…

 _::I can hear you talkinggggg,::_ Wildrider sang, safely over near the humans.

 _::JAZZ!::_

"What d'you think he did now?" Kass asked her human friends as Arcee suddenly tore off after Jazz, screeching nastily in Cybertronian as Jazz laughed and Wildrider continued to grin only a few feet from where they were seated. He looked uncomfortably smug for her liking.

"Hell if I know," Rachel said, shaking her head. She spoke past a mouthful of strained wild carrots. "I swear, they probably have whole soap operas going on with their radio things."

"That must get annoying after awhile, though, wouldn't it?" Barns asked, frowning.

"You have _no_ idea," Vortex suddenly said behind them, sounding exhausted. Wildrider only cackled.

The humans looked at the mechs and then at each other. Shrugging, they went back to their dinner. At least their alien friends were never _bored_ , they had to reason.

 

 **End _Telephone_.**

 ** _Next_ , Goddard and the Transformers talk about war.**


	35. Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

The humans had a saying "some things never change." And he'd found that to be a relatively accurate precept throughout his life as a soldier. Even still, some things changed unexpectedly, especially when Earth was involved. Vortex had never thought he'd share anything with Autobots, and yet there they were, seated together as traveling companions. Not even just that—they were fighting together as a team, as fellow survivors.

And then there were the humans. There were moments when Vortex wanted to kill them and they were just sitting there, or walking, or talking. Then there were moments where they deliberately annoyed him or teased him, and he just… took it. It never made sense. He was a Decepticon, even when there no longer were Decepticons. He shouldn't have found reasons to walk with them, or fight with or for them… and he definitely shouldn't have found things to relate to them over.

Yet, even for all the things they had in common (if survival and avoiding insanity due to boredom were things to have in common), it was always easy to spot the ways they were still different, Vortex noted. Some things were more obvious than others.

If asked for an example, he would have indicated the inferiority of the organics' carbon based structures. In fact, humans (all organics really) had the worst constructed frames Vortex had ever seen. He had survived war within the ranks of the Decepticon army during the worst of their struggles, when spare parts were as rare and valuable as energon, and yet the organics outshined every case he had ever seen of poorly-maintained mechanical condition. Their limbs were as fragile as the extensions from Earth's plant life, they had no true inbuilt storage tanks and needed constant replenishment of nutrients and fuel, and their lack of armor made them incredibly susceptible to the weather.

He had ignored most of these problems, having already accepted that the organics were inferior, but as the days turned to weeks turned to months and he stayed in their company, it became impossible to ignore the pains and struggles the humans had. Whether it was because they made it noticeable by complaining (or by slowing them all down), or because he was just so far gone that he was actually looking at the humans as equal teammates whose ailments were important to take notice of.

"Augh…"

Vortex had turned around in his seat to look at the human in alarm before he even realized it. Piers Goddard was still awake, letting the kids get an extra hour of sleep as he took care of their last minute chores for the night, like washing dishes. He had made the pained sound as he crouched. It seemed strange to be concerned about something as useless as an organic, especially since it was the older and feebler one, but Vortex didn't… mind it. It was almost instinctual now.

"You okay, Goddard?" Jazz called, though he kept his voice quiet. The kids were either drifting off to sleep or already out. They were camping out near a small body of water, using the pine forest for cover.

With a gusty sigh, Goddard waved the concern away as he settled in front of the fire to work on the dishes. It was rather chilly for the humans at night, so Barns had stoked the fire before going to bed and it was still going strong. "Just my knees. My dad always had bad knees," the human laughed. "Almost prophetic I have 'em, too."

Vortex had no idea what was so amusing about having a defect, but humans were strange. It was easier to just brush off their insanity than to try to figure it out, no matter how curious _Vortex_ was. _Onslaught_ didn't have the patience for it most days.

"Yeah, what are you, seventy?" Jazz goaded cheekily.

Goddard slammed a pan into the pot of heated water, the liquid splashing up. "Shut your mouth, whippersnapper," he snapped, though he was grinning at the mech. "I'm only forty-two." He paused, suddenly scowling. "Wait. Maybe forty-one. Aw, shit, I'm over the hill, what more do you want?"

"Vorns?" Wildrider asked suddenly, surprising Goddard and Vortex alike. He had not been expecting the red-and-black mech to still be online, considering it was supposed to be Vortex and Jazz on duty that evening. However, as Vortex turned to find the other ex-Decepticon, he noticed other glowing optics in the dark campsite turned toward them.

"What the hell is a vorn?" Goddard demanded, ignoring the fact that all of the mechs were online and listening.

Wheeljack rumbled, earfins flashing gently. "A vorn would translate to about eighty years, so no, not vorns, Wildrider," he answered both of them. "Just years."

Wildrider made a face of disgust and Vortex snorted; yes, human bodies were ridiculously inefficient on all levels. Only forty years? The man they all considered an elder was younger than they were by hundreds of thousands of years. How was this possible? Earth broke all sorts of logic.

"I forget you guys are so freaking old," Goddard said as he washed, being conversational. Vortex didn't mind the background noise, really. "Doesn't explain why you act younger than those kids of yours half the time. Have to keep an eye out for a bunch of metal hooligans as much as I do squishy ones."

Jazz, leaning back so that his helm rested against Thundercracker's legs, grinned teasingly. "We age _beautifully_ , thank you," he replied, sounding almost insulted. Vortex, like many of the mechs had done at some point, wished he had organic optics, if only for the capability to roll his eyes. That was such an applicable reaction.

"Ha!" Goddard laughed shortly. "I remember my mom cursin' twenty kids like myself on me. She almost got the number right."

"It's so easy to forget how fast your race ages," Wheeljack said. "Comparing our ages, you must indeed be our elder in wisdom."

"Nah, you're all probably millennia older than I am," Goddard muttered, placing a heavy pot aside on the grass to dry.

Wheeljack was strangely insistent, most likely due to his interest in human culture. "Still. With age comes wisdom," he said.

"Now you're just callin' me old," Goddard snapped. Why humans spoke angrily and yet made happy expressions like a smile, Vortex hadn't figured out. It was troubling to try to translate their emotions. "Nahh, I get what you mean, 'Jack. The older you get, or I guess in our cases, the closer you get to death, the more you think and the more things make sense."

"You're not dying soon," Wildrider said suddenly. He suddenly scowled as he crept, surprisingly quiet, over to the semi-circle of mechs and Goddard. "No."

" _HA_!" Goddard chortled, waving his hand at Wildrider, dismissive again. Of the humans, only Goddard ever really got perturbed by Wildrider's oddness, though Vortex could see the old man was fond of the unhinged mech in a strange way of his own. "I sure hope not, you sorry nut, but I am gettin' up there in years. Makes me think about all the things I've seen and done before, especially when I'm watchin' these kids try to eke out a life worth livin' in this hellhole."

Harsh words spoken bluntly and without bitterness; the truth. Vortex looked away, pretending not to listen, but he was. It was… strange. The humans would complain about nearly anything (the weather was too cold, their food was spoiled, or their feet hurt from walking) but none of them ever complained about their overall condition, the fact that they were survivors, refugees on their own planet. It was like they accepted it with a grim understanding that complaining wouldn't fix it. Because in the end, food could be replaced and the weather could improve…

But Earth wouldn't.

"What was it like, growing up?" Wheeljack prompted.

Goddard sighed, before going into a long-winded speech. The human was a talker, but a good talker. Vortex's curiosity never failed to get ensnared by Goddard's stories.

"Before… well, it wasn't real different than the life these kids have. I was pretty young, but there were more people, I guess. I remember we had a car, too, and I had an uncle somewhere along the line," Goddard said, drying utensils. He sat back on his pallet, his eyes drifting. "I remember living on a military base and my mom had a garden. I remember fleeing the States early on. Got over to England, but heck, that didn't do much for us. After that it wasn't real different than the life these kids have. Growing up meant running for your life. I remember—aw, hell, you got me rambling like an old coot!" he suddenly sputtered, sounding angry.

Thundercracker and Jazz rumbled in amusement and Wildrider grinned toothily. Arcee, having been quiet for nearly the entire day, just smiled gently from her position by Wheeljack. "No, no, continue. It is fascinating," Wheeljack insisted, earfins flashing brightly in excitement. _Everything_ was always fascinating for that mech.

"Must not hear old timers much, huh?" Goddard muttered darkly. He rested back further, resigned to talking more. "What can I say, I've had a nice life, all things considered. Got married, never had kids. Guess that's what God intended, 'cause look at us now! Can't imagine havin' it turn out any different."

Jazz brightened, intrigued. "I had no idea ya were married!" he exclaimed. Vortex had a vague idea of what that was. Didn't it mean being bonded to someone? That never made sense to him, as humans lacked sparks.

Goddard grinned, making a wistful sound. "Yes, indeed, sir. Married my sweetheart in 'twenty-one. We were in England, or what was left of it, but we made do," he continued. He still smiled, but there was a shadow in his eyes as he remembered. "We were happy. I wish you coulda met her, my Annabelle."

For some odd reason, Jazz made a face. Vortex barely noticed it, but he was surprised when faint lines of grief appeared on the silver mech's faceplates. It was gone in an instant, typical for the Autobot.

"She was enough to brighten up any gloomy day and could hold her own in a fight," Goddard continued, oblivious. "She died from cholera in Brittany about three years before I met Barns and Mr. and Mrs. Rancourt. Saddest day of my life, let me tell you."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Wheeljack said to Goddard, distracting Vortex. His headfins flashed lowly, sympathetic.

As usual, Goddard just waved the worries and concerns away, as if a simple hand motion could wipe away age-old pain. Vortex felt his limbs twitch. If only things were that simple for everything. "Thanks. It's been a rough road, but I'd wager all of us have lost dear ones. Even those kids, bless their hearts," Goddard said, glancing over to the sleeping younglings. He smiled fondly. "If I had one wish, it'd be for those three to be far away from all this, or at least… have some kind of memory of a life without war."

Thundercracker, generally the silent one, rumbled loud enough to be heard across where Vortex sat with just the bare minimal audio reception. "I wish for the same," he said gravely. Jazz smiled and patted his leg.

"How long vere you soldier?" Wildrider suddenly asked, tilting his helm at Goddard.

That earned him a rather pompous expression. "I still am one, my good mech." Goddard suddenly looked down at his lap, grinning about something Vortex didn't understand. "Dad was a Ranger, so I figured I'd follow in his footsteps. After everything really got hairy and we got over to Europe, I knew there wasn't going to be a way for me to join real armed forces, but with every militia we came across, I did what I could to help. We were in Brittany for a long time, so I got damn good training from those men there. Served pretty good years, well, until the drones got a bit too close for comfort."

"Once a soldier, always a soldier," Arcee murmured. Goddard glanced at the immobile Autobot and laughed.

"True that, ma'am," he said, both polite and informal. He nodded his head at her, surprising the Autobot. "What about you? How long've you all been in this mess?"

Arcee stared at him, uncertain. She was very new to the humans and they to her. Vortex smirked behind his mask; it was nice to know more than a femme like this one, who seemed intent on outshining the others all the time. "What?" she asked at last, casting a glance at Wheeljack for help. The scientist just shook his head, amused.

"I know you aliens live a Goddamn long time, but…" Goddard trailed off, searching for a way to speak. He gestured at Jazz, frowning. "You're always talkin' about before the war, Jazz. What about the rest of you?"

Wheeljack made a thoughtful sound. "I was a scientist working at Iacon labs for quite some time," he offered.

Goddard smirked. "What the heck is Iacon? You keep sayin' it all the time, but I never asked."

"Oh, it was the capital city-state of Cybertron. There was an entire sector designed for the sciences, to keep away from the general populace," Wheeljack began brightly, happy to share a story of his own. "I worked there for many vorns, but when I was still very young, just a junior scientist, the war broke out. Iacon was left alone for only a short time. Both Megatron and Optimus Prime believed the key to stopping the war would to have the most tactical advantages. The Autobots held Iacon for a long time, but eventually even the science sector was no longer safe and, well, I joined the Autobots. I had… philosophical incompatibilities with the Decepticons."

"That's one way t' put it," Jazz said, chuckling. Vortex glanced away, deciding not to comment on that.

Wheeljack, bemused, shook his helm. "I didn't want to stay in the army, mind you, but before I knew it, I was one of the senior science officers on board the _Ark_ , and then the _Hyperion_." Vortex knew that ship; he had helped blow up a level or two of it one time. "I was still a low level rank when Arcee and I met briefly at Iacon, before it too fell to ruin." Arcce nodded, confirming the story.

Wildrider chuckled lowly. "I have always been in var. It is vhat I was made for," he said, proud and boasting. "Gestalt vas veapon."

 _You will serve the Decepticon cause with honor and total subservience. This is what you were made for. This is the only reason you exist, so serve that purpose_ well _._

Vortex snarled silently, but turned his head away, so the others wouldn't notice his narrowed visor. He didn't know what made him angry anymore, the memory of Megatron's decree… or his own acceptance of that fate. The moment Vortex had been betrayed by his master had been the day Vortex realized he no longer had a purpose. The Decepticons were gone, and with them, the reason Vortex even existed.

Fists forming, he forced himself to listen to the conversation, as a distraction. Wheeljack was talking. His friendly, bland voice drew Vortex's attention back to the clearing.

"Yes. The Autobots were forced to create their own," the Autobot said. "I participated in some of those experiments." Vortex could only faintly recall the names of the Autobot Gestalt teams. They were definitely inferior to the Decepticon teams, but he had often longed to get into a real fight, only between the gestalts. It would have been a glorious battle.

Goddard looked curious. "What is a Gestalt anyway?" he asked. Vortex sighed quietly to himself, anger fading slowly. Since when did they talk this much with only one of the humans? It felt strange to talk without the younglings involved.

Thundercracker answered for once. "Combiner teams. Generally five mechs to a squad," he explained.

That seemed to throw the human. "Wait… combiner?" Goddard repeated.

The teasing grin Jazz suddenly wore was contagious to at least Vortex (who was grateful for his mask) and Wildrider, who just grinned. "You know how big we are to you?" Jazz prompted the unknowing human.

"Yeah…?" Goddard looked wary under the grinning mechs. Even Arcee had a small smile, but she didn't look at the human.

Jazz shrugged, nonchalant. "Well, yeah, imagine us getting dwarfed by a bigger mech in that kind of ratio," he said, glancing at the man, waiting for a reaction.

It didn't take long. Goddard flew back, shocked. " _CHRIST_!" he exclaimed. He sized Jazz up, scowling in suspicion. "You're lying."

Laughing, Jazz shook his helm. "No sir. Ask any mech around."

"Well, I'm glad you guys aren't all like that." Goddard seemed to calm down, though he did seem to send Vortex and Wildrider wary glances now. "…You two were part of one of those big things?" he asked after a moment of considering.

"I vas leg," Wildrider declared proudly.

Goddard gave him a leveled look. "I'm sure you were," he said. Vortex smirked at the condescension from the human, which Wildrider completely missed. Goddard turned and motioned at Vortex suddenly. "What about you, 'Tex?"

Hesitating only for a moment under the sudden scrutiny, Vortex averted his gaze. "Left arm."

"Weird." Goddard suddenly and literally _dumped_ his wariness and shrugged it away. Why did humans have such complex body language? Interrogating one would have been the most _interesting_ interrogation Vortex would ever have had. He almost wished he had an excuse to terrorize one of the organics they had with them, but… yeah, he doubted that would play out so well with the other mechs. "Well, can't really complain. Humans do all sorts of things that must make you guys wonder."

"Every fragging day," Thundercracker muttered, his optics offline now, as if he were trying to recharge. Jazz and Goddard laughed.

Wildrider peered at the human in front of them. "Vhat vere you?"

"What was I?" Goddard asked, surprised to be at the receiving end of the questions again. He chuckled. "I was just a regular guy with a gun. By the time I got involved, there weren't any real ranks other than captains of the militia teams."

"We have a somewhat similar hierarchy in our respective forces, I believe, at least in translation," Wheeljack answered, counting off on his servos. "Privates, corporals, lieutenants, captains, generals… although we have specific titles as well, such as Prime and Magnus."

Goddard made a thoughtful noise. "Any of you officers?" he asked, curious.

"I am a lieutenant," Arcee said, shifting slightly in her seat. She was still limited to being carried long distances due to her injuries, but she got tired of sitting in the same place. Vortex couldn't blame her. "Out of the Autobots present here, only Jazz outranks me."

"Oh?" Goddard asked, intrigued, looking back at the mech in question.

Jazz, always enjoying the limelight, shrugged. "Only by a bit," he said casually, waving the topic away. He was quite skilled at mimicking the humans on all levels.

Arcee glanced at Jazz. "You were third in command under Optimus Prime, _second_ while on Earth, and before that, head of special ops," the femme stated, giving the silver mech a wry look. "Weighing you against the other commanders across the units I was aware of, that'd put you at _least_ seventh in command of the entire army."

Goddard barked out a laugh. "Holy shit, now we're talkin'," he crowed. He smirked at Jazz, amused by something. "No offense, Jazz, but you don't strike me as a leading man." Vortex could agree with _that_ sentiment.

"Ha!" Jazz laughed, grinning. "Got me there. I was behind th' scenes mostly, trust me. Special Ops was my main field." He glanced up at his mate, amused. "What about you, TC? Enlighten us about th' hierarchy of you 'Cons."

Thundercracker sent Jazz a strained look, but did turned back to Goddard, explaining, "I was part of a Seeker trine, under Starscream."

"Fliers," Wildrider muttered darkly. Vortex and Thundercracker both fixed the grounder with glares.

Before they could start up an intense Fliers vs. Grounders debate (Vortex had personally lost count of how many of those he had had in his meager existence), the human distracted them.

"You keep forgettin' I don't know your terms," the human said, crossing his arms against his chest.

"A Seeker is a Decepticon elite. We turn into aircraft that can manage unaided space travel. I'm a jet right now, because that model seemed to fit best," Thundercracker said, patient. "Starscream was the Aerial Commander."

Goddard looked rather impressed, having at least been informed of who Starscream had been before. "So you were pretty high up there, too. I feel kind of left out with all you special ranks, other than 'Tex and nutjob here." Wildrider was either stupid or just ignorant to the insult, because he just grinned instead of getting angry.

"Gestalts were on their own levels," Vortex interrupted, surprising the others. "We were above mere private classes." They were beyond valuable, even to power-obsessed mechs like Starscream. A Gestalt team could win a battle and even change the course of the war, if applied correctly. They weren't officers, but they certainly were of higher rank than the average grunt.

Scoffing, Goddard shook his head. "Great. Ah well, it's not like it matters much now, huh?" The older man lay down completely, but still spoke. He sounded strange when he did. "Makes me wonder though."

"Vonder vhat?" Wildrider asked.

Goddard gestured absently in the air. "Where we woulda been—the three sides, I mean—if this Galvatron fellow never showed up. Hard to believe that one guy could screw it up so badly that the idea of a full out war between our species seems like a luxury, right?"

Vortex stopped and stared at the human. It was dark enough now, with the fire dying, that the only real light was coming from optics and visors, but even without power-sapping night vision turned on, Vortex could see the tiny figure on the ground. All of the Transformers were watching Goddard now. Vortex didn't know how to respond to that, personally.

The silence was uncomfortable. "Ha… yeah," Jazz said, frowning. "I dunno, Goddard. I'd like to imagine it'd be a fair fight, but…"

They had all imagined, Vortex thought quietly to himself, what the situation would have been like if the drones had never arrived, and if Galvatron had never gone the route that he had. There would still be Autobots. There would still be Decepticons. Anything else was just speculation—the outcome, the amount of devastation Earth would have endured, where they themselves would stand, alive or dead—

They most certainly wouldn't be sitting there talking about it.

Thundercracker shrugged, his massive form only allowing partial mimicry of the gesture. "Earth would have been decimated anyway, by the violence," he said, uninterested.

"I figured," Goddard said. He sounded strangely bemused. "I still woulda liked to go down fighting—more than hidin' out like this. A counter strike against the drones never worked, my dad always said. Just kept comin'."

Sitting up slightly, Jazz nodded. "Yeah," he said, stiff. "I was there." He made a wistful sound. "After Prime, 'Bee and Ratchet were gone, it was only me an' 'Hide fer th' longest time. More troops on either side showed up, mostly under Starscream for th' Decepticons, but…"

Wheeljack made a small sound. "I wish we had had a way to know how to fight them back then." He sounded remorseful. "I remember troops trying to kill them straight on. Trying to shoot them under the backsides would have been difficult all the same, but perhaps it would have made the difference we needed."

"The States' military was so desperate, they were gonna nuke th' suckers if they ever found where they were comin' from too," Jazz added. Without much warning, the growing tension of the camp reached a new height. There was a grim pause and Jazz tilted his head. "They were that desperate. Never did find a nest, or ship or whatever."

"Glad I missed out on that, then," Goddard said wryly.

Wildrider growled lowly. "Ve came just as drones got out of hand," he said, surprisingly agitated. "Galvatron said he vould control them. He did not." None of them had fond feelings, particularly the surviving Decepticons, for their ex-leader. They had fought for their own causes, not his. Once their paths diverged… there was no love lost between them, not even for the insane Wildrider.

"We Combaticons arrived after you," Vortex said, forcing memory files to be filed further and further away form his surface processes. He did not want to remember the worst of it. "We arrived just as _Nemesis_ was under Galvatron's genocide campaign."

"Where th' slag _were_ you guys anyway?" Jazz interjected, glancing at Thundercracker, curious. "Never found yer base either."

Before, a question like that would have gotten Jazz either a swipe or just a blank stare, denying him an answer for something so sensitive for the cause.

But there _isn't_ a cause, Vortex realized. He didn't even flinch when the mech asked, or when Thundercracker turned to him to tell him, honestly and openly… because it really didn't matter anymore.

"A lake in northern Romania," Thundercracker answered calmly. "It was supposed to be temporary. He wanted to move the ship to the Pacific."

Arcee moved, catching Vortex's gaze. She looked contemplative. "It never struck me as logical… why Galvatron turned on his men," she said, earning the attention of the others. She frowned, trying to figure it out. "He could have won the battle for Earth if he had just stayed the course."

"He lost his mind," Thundercracker replied. He didn't hesitate when he spoke, but there was an edge to his voice, creeping up. "He started with lower ranks, but from what I could tell, when Starscream finally questioned Galvatron's actions, he just… snapped and slaughtered everything. He trusted no one and after the mechs turned to defend themselves, he just sent the drones after them." The jet looked away, feigning disinterest. "I never asked where the drones had come from. I thought it was from his own designs."

Jazz leaned back on Thundercracker, the tension still there, but deflating. "I heard it was another mech, a neutral or some 'Con scientist."

"Perhaps," Thundercracker agreed. "I never wanted to know, not even after the slaughter. The drones got out of hand for everyone, escaping… and here we are."

"What a world," Vortex growled. He despised it for so many reasons. They were stuck there, no matter what they felt, however.

"Truly," Wheeljack agreed, solemn. Arcee turned away, silent.

Goddard stretched. "You guys do a good job keepin' us humans safe," he said suddenly. He turned his head toward them, his facial expression hidden by the darkness as the fire died. "I gotta thank you for that."

Jazz chuckled. "You've done a pretty good job of it on your own, Goddard. Lasted this long without us," he said.

The camp fell silent. There weren't many sounds from the forest, with most of the animal population gone and no drones had showed up for a few days. They were alone.

"You know somethin'?" Goddard announced abruptly.

There was a pause. "What?" Thundercracker demanded.

Goddard chuckled, though it was a strained sound now. "When war comes crawlin' up and separates brother from brother, its easy to forget that its just a man and man fightin'. Those men have feelings and hearts and fears. No one wants to die, not even for a good cause," he said. Vortex couldn't stop looking at him, even though the words the man was saying made his spark twist. "Lookin' at your war from a distance, I can tell it's just like that, as it was for us. Factions instead of countries and mechs instead of men, but… right now, we're all tired soldiers, wishin' none of it had happened. At least not the way it's turned out."

None of them had anything to say to that. Vortex found himself making a fist, though he didn't know why.

"It took a fourth party none of us were expectin' to bring an end to the fightin', throwin' all of us in together," the human added. Goddard looked up again. Vortex was certain the old man was smiling. "Pretty sad, ain't it?"

"…Yeah," Jazz said quietly. There was another pause, leaving them to dwell on exactly what had just been said, and the realization the organic was right.

Arcee had turned around to look at Goddard just the same as the others had. "We fight because we must," she said simply, in a way Vortex almost envied. "Nothing more. Or at least, that is what is should be."

Tilting his head, Wheeljack agreed. "Indeed."

"And now we survive 'cause we have to," Goddard said. He motioned out at the other sleeping humans. "Because of those kids and anything that's left of what meant somethin' to us before."

He wasn't like these creatures. It was crazy to think that they… had anything in common. But the very thing that defined his existence had connected all ten of them, despite the obvious differences between them. This war had led them to this. Whatever _this_ was. He dared not think of it as some twisted version of a gestalt team like Wildrider did, or a "family" as those inane humans called it.

Vortex really wasn't sure what they were. He never had known and he doubted he ever would.

"Good night, fellas, Arcee," Goddard announced, settling to recharge finally, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders. The fire had finally died down, the cold stronger than the lingering embers of the fire, but the humans had their coverings.

The mechs not on duty stepped into their own recharge cycles. "Good night, Goddard," Wheeljack replied, offlining his optics and earfins, completely comfortable to rest in peace so near his ex-enemies, leaving one of them to remain alert for troubles alongside another Autobot. As if all of them accepted the idea that they were leaving their lives in the hands of Vortex with real trust.

He didn't know why that didn't disturb him as much as it had earlier. Perhaps he really was losing his mind.

 _::You okay, Vortex?::_ Jazz suddenly asked.

Vortex didn't look at him, fixing his visor on the horizon, seeking out potential trouble headed their way. _::Yes.::_

Whether or not that was true… Vortex knew it wasn't worth thinking over. Soldiers were not supposed to dwell on what was, only upon what dangers were still headed their way. No matter what else changed in their lives, that much was still true, both his occupation as well as purpose. Until the day he no longer had that purpose, this was what he—what _they_ were, bound by blood, memories… and nightmares.

This was just how his life was and always would be.

 

  


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**End** _**Soldier** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Bluestreak has language problems. This is either hilarious or rage-inducing, depending on the poor soul at the receiving end of said-problems.**

  


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 **A/Ns** :  
\- Vorns = eighty-three years according to tfwiki.


	36. Literal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

Bluestreak was her buddy. Kass would never, ever think otherwise. He had been the support she had so desperately needed after she lost her family. He'd been her stability when they had unexpectedly met and been adopted by their current group of mechs and other humans. Even now, she still felt closest to the Autobot gunner. He wasn't the sort of person she would have spent time with before, but after nearly two years of living with him and the others, Kass was certain she couldn't live without his optimism and friendship.

That said, living with Bluestreak was, as Jazz aptly put, an _acquired_ taste. Kass admitted she had faults, as did the majority of their friends. Vortex and Rachel both had anger management problems (was it wrong she thought that made them the perfect pair?), Barns, Jazz and Danny were incorrigible jokesters, Wildrider was _insane_ , Thundercracker was too defensive, Wheeljack was eccentric, and Arcee was sometimes too serious for her own good.

Bluestreak? He was… well… _Bluestreak_.

Kass had spent the morning blissfully hiking along with the others surrounded by only the soft crunch of feet on the ground, the whine and low rumble of servos and hydraulics and the whisper of the wind through the trees and grass. Kass had reveled in the peace until, of course, Danny had to break the ice. Both she and Jazz seemed to dread silence more than anything else. Wildrider hated it too, but instead of starting a conversation, he would generally try to scare someone or do something stupid to get attention. Thankfully, Danny hadn't brought up a really bad topic. It was actually very interesting—the Transformer war itself, prior to Earth's introduction.

"It wasn't because he wanted to start a war," Thundercracker explained. While Kass wasn't sure hearing the story from either side would give them a real, unbiased answer, she had to admit that an ex-Decepticon might give more insight than an Autobot. "The majority of the population was starving in the streets, so he used that initial crisis to spur support for him to take complete control of the government. Prime and the Senate tried to stop him politically, before it eventually came down to violence, and well, the war started."

"The streets weren't in _shambles_ like you are insinuating," Arcee shot back, frowning. How she managed to roll effortlessly over the forest floor and even fallen trees, Kass didn't know. "Yes, there were problems, but Megatron reached for power for his own benefit."

"No one wants to start something as damaging as a civil war. I refuse to believe that's possible," Wheeljack said, surprisingly defending Thundercracker. "I remember many different movements being extended by the High Lord Protector and various other groups to help the needy, but it wasn't enough. It spilled over."

As they walked, Bluestreak moved parallel to her, generally keeping his optics forward, considering he had one of the best optical arrays out of the mechs. However, at Wheeljack's voice, he peered curiously at the taller mech, intrigued by something Kass didn't catch.

"That said, Megatron went too far with his manipulation of the poorer classes," Wheeljack continued. He sounded sad. "It did not take much goading to rile up a _coup d'etat_ and start the war."

"So Megatron wasn't an idiot then," Rachel spoke up. She and Barns were both very interested in the conversation, with their interest in history. "I mean, yeah, he was stupid for causing the war, but he knew what he was doing. He was definitely planning on taking power come Hell or high water." Kass saw Bluestreak's head swivel to look at Rachel.

"That's true," Wheeljack acknowledged.

Thundercracker shrugged, pushing aside and holding a tree branch back so the other mechs could pass. "The whole beginning was a mess of politics and greed," he said. "No use arguing about it now."

"Yeahhhh. I still say Megs was totally off his rocker from th' get-go," Jazz replied, making a sound of disapproval as he ducked another set of branches.

Bluestreak tilted his head, the curiosity melting into a frown. Kass sighed, ignoring it, as did the others.

"You didn't answer my question, though," Danny complained from Wildrider's hands. She had sprained her ankle earlier that week, so she reluctantly allowed herself to be carried to avoid slowing them down. "What _caused_ the war?"

"Megatron," Arcee and Wheeljack said at the same time as Jazz and Vortex said, "Politics." The four Transformers exchanged harsh looks. Vortex had looked intent on staying out of the conversation entirely earlier.

"I acknowledge the situation on the streets was bad, but it took a spark to set it off," Wheeljack began. "Megatron took the initiative to get the ball rolling, so to speak."

Kass hesitated when she heard Bluestreak make a hissing whine, as the Transformers often did when they started to speak, but stopped themselves. She still didn't say anything, however. She knew he'd say something eventually on his own.

Jazz made a disapproving sound again. "I lived on those streets, 'Jack. I can tell ya, they weren't no picnic," he replied. "The Golden Age was only golden fer some and it only lasted so long, an' then it was th' lot of us lower class who got slagged over. Then again, I thought Megs was a nut, but I can sympathize with th' grunts who believed his promises of equality an' all." Thundercracker rumbled lowly.

"So, the pressure of both the growing economic and social situation plus Megatron's desire for absolute power led to the civil war," Barns said, summing it up easily, cutting off conflict. Kass smiled to herself; at least one of them had the sense to keep the peace every time an intense topic was brought up. "A deadly combination, it seems."

"A tragic one," Wheeljack agreed, earfins flashing lowly. All the mechs agreed.

"It is nothing to dwell on now," Barns said, with a sage shake of the head. "From the sounds of it, it was unavoidable. A house divided can't stand, after all."

And then… the inevitable happened.

"Barns," Bluestreak began innocently, "what do you mean by that?"

Kass couldn't help but sigh heavily. Unfortunately for Bluestreak, the others reacted as well. "Oh, for Pete's sake… don't try it!" Rachel exclaimed, abruptly angry. Vortex growled lowly and the two quickly picked up pace. Wheeljack just shook his head.

Upon seeing Bluestreak's expression, Kass tried to fix the situation. "Bluestreak, it means that if your species was separated by a division of interests, it was doomed to fall apart," she explained.

The confusion did not disappear from Bluestreak's faceplates. Kass groaned internally as the grey mech struggled to understand.

"…But…" he began, hesitant. "Houses don't stand."

Behind her, Thundercracker hissed lowly. "No. No they don't," Kass confirmed, knowing it was best to just tell Bluestreak straightly instead of trying to reprimand the others.

Bluestreak kept going, as expected. "Because that would require legs. And they don't have those, do they?"

Kass ducked a low branch, momentarily closing her eyes, bidding the headache lurking somewhere in her head to stay away. "…No… Blue," she replied, tense. "They don't."

"Actually, Bluestreak, in that phrase the word house is a form of household," Wheeljack said patiently. "The original meaning is that if the humans in a family are not united, then they will not be able to stand up against their enemies. They would be destroyed."

"Oh." Bluestreak was silent for a moment, processing this. "I see. Then what did you mean by 'get the ball rolling'?" Bluestreak asked, looking over at the scientist. Kass could almost hear the gears moving in his helm as he attempted to analyze the conversation.

"Oh, Primus," Danny muttered. Wildrider cackled further ahead on the path.

"It's just another phrase, Bluestreak," Wheeljack said, shaking his helm. "Nothing important."

"But what did it mean?" Bluestreak insisted, clearly not noticing the irritation from the others.

Wheeljack did his best to explain, even as the others grumbled or glared as the conversation was successfully derailed. Kass knew that it was necessary for herself, Wheeljack and others like Barns to keep their patience in check around Bluestreak, because if one of them berated him, one of the other more aggressive ones (Vortex came to mind immediately) would lash out as well and just add to the problem.

"Now does that seem understandable?" Wheeljack asked

Bluestreak's door-wings drooped lowly. "…Yes, but…" he began, "Jazz… what did you mean by, 'off his rocker'?"

Further ahead with Vortex, Rachel shouted, " _JESUS CHRIST!_ " as if in agony. Jazz snickered, before kindly explaining the phrase to Bluestreak in the best way he could, with some help from Wheeljack.

Kass sighed heavily, knowing it was useless to just assume Bluestreak would understand the various phrases they used that weren't straightforward English. Certainly he was new to human culture, but in an angry discussion about it, Vortex said that the "bumbling grey moron" had the same problems with Cybertronian and not just English. At first she thought Bluestreak was just very young. And then she thought he was very, _very_ young, much younger than even herself, if he was having so much trouble with his own language too. But then she realized that the truth of the matter was that he was a good hundred thousand years older than her, maybe a little less.

So… it was a little confusing at first. Kass didn't want to assume her closest mech friend was slow – he certainly didn't seem to be and Jazz assured her Bluestreak was very intelligent, but after nearly six months of having to constantly explain what they were saying to him, she began to realize that something really was wrong.

But after talking quietly to Wheeljack and Jazz on the side, Kass discovered it wasn't a defect that was holding Bluestreak back from understanding the conversations. It was, well, something a little less natural, but just as much tied to Bluestreak's mind.

"It's cultural," Jazz explained.

"Cultural, to not understand metaphors and idioms?" Kass asked, surprised.

Wheeljack shook his head. "It's not that as much as it is not one of the behavioral codes given to Praxian sparklings," he said, always patient with questions from any of them.

"Praxian…" Kass could barely keep up with all the terms she was constantly learning from the mechs. "Praxus. That was Bluestreak's home city wasn't it?"

Jazz clasped his clawed hands in a very human like fashion. "Yup. See, each city-state used t' have its own guidelines fer everythin', really. Includin' how t' format a sparklin'," Jazz replied. He grinned, obviously amused by the situation. "Praxians were a bunch of academics an' th' like, so they weren't real focused on makin' sure th' kids knew every joke on Cybertron. They focused on bein' straightforward people, you know? Tryin' t' understand humor or fancy ways of sayin' somethin' simple doesn't compute fer Praxians."

"Oh… that… makes sense," Kass managed to say after a moment. Perhaps she had been wrong to assume that the Transformers had a homogeneous culture after all… They did have differences, even amongst themselves.

"It ain't just Praxus either," Jazz continued. "Some mechs are formatted with high octane engines t' run advanced battle programming, but they got terrible emotional control 'cause of it. I knew a pair of twins like that, an', boy, they make Bluestreak's problems look like nothin'. It all depends on where they grow up, or are formatted."

"But can't he just _download_ the files?" Kass demanded. "Or get that code later in life?"

"It's not that easy. We're not _completely_ like computers, Kassandra," Wheeljack replied, his optics kind, so she knew he was smiling behind his mask. "After a certain point, we must learn as we go, quite like you humans, when it comes to behavioral protocols. We amend the codes ourselves as we learn, but Bluestreak's codes are from his creation. It is not easy to overwrite them. And idioms and metaphors are some of the hardest concepts to learn."

For all of their bluster, most of the mechs seemed to take all this easily, even though it was an inconvenience. Kass frowned. "…I see." She would just have to get used to it as well.

Jazz chuckled. "Don't worry about it too much. I used t' be with a Praxian. Took me ages t' get over th' fact he didn't get my jokes half th' time, or spent so much time tryin' t' understand them that he shorted out his circuits," he said. "Blue does alright, Kass, so just give 'im time t' figure stuff out when he gets confused."

Kass nodded, though she was still uneasy. "I just worry about him asking and Vortex getting angry." Thundercracker and Rachel weren't infinitely patient with the grey Autobot either.

"Well, we'll just have t' intervene," Jazz said with his usual grin. "Nothin' wrong with a question or two."

However, when it came to Bluestreak, a 'question or two' generally meant a 'dozen a day', especially when they got into a larger discussion with everyone. Most times, it wasn't too bad and Bluestreak often waited until he could speak privately with Wheeljack, Jazz or Kass to ask about a stray phrase that had bothered him, but some days, he made the mistake of asking the group as a whole, thus including Vortex and the less patient members of the group.

It was always a bad sign when _Wildrider_ of all mechs reacted in anger to something. "VHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? !" he screeched after Bluestreak spent nearly an hour demanding answers from him one day.

Kass took Bluestreak aside (who was very dejected after that insult) and made sure he knew that she or Jazz were the better people to ask questions of. He did his best to segregate his questioning for them, but sometimes, his curious nature got the best of him, like it did today, and he just asked everyone. It wouldn't be that bad if he just asked once in a while. But for Bluestreak? One question lead to another that lead to another, for hours on end. It was rather annoying.

The argument had died down in the group and Bluestreak had slowed down to walk alongside Kass, looking very upset. Kass sighed softly, knowing Bluestreak had sensitive feelings. He didn't mean to bother anyone. It truly was in his nature.

After a moment, Bluestreak glanced down at her. "Kass, I'm sorry for bugging you," he said quietly, looking guilty. It tugged at Kass's heartstrings to see that sort of look on his face.

"No, no, it's okay," she said, smiling gently. "Questions are good." Even if they did drive many of their friends to contemplate homicide.

The gunner's frown remained in place. "Really?"

"Yup," Kass replied, forcing herself to be upbeat. "It doesn't bug me." A little white lie wouldn't hurt. Kass paused mentally; she would not use that phrase out loud. It would take forever to explain that to him.

"…Okay…" Bluestreak trailed off. He hesitated and then asked urgently, "Because I'm still confused. What did Rachel mean when she was talking about Megatron being in the human Pit or immersed in water?"

 _Yes_. He was an acquired presence. Groaning, Kass resigned herself to the discussion for the rest of the day.

 **0000**

There were many, many times that Bluestreak was confused, by everyone, and in all sorts of verbal situations. Every event had its own drama.

"Is anyone going to tell him that you know?"

Kass glanced at Rachel, knowing her best human friend was very worried about her unique situation with Vortex. Rachel had never come straight out and told them what her feelings were on the matter, in fact she was very insistent on making sure no one knew what those feelings were, along with other things… like the mere knowledge that she _knew_ about Vortex's feelings. The helicopter had no clue Rachel knew about how he felt.

"What?" Rachel asked, surprised, looking at Barns in alarm. "Screw that. He'd only get more awkward to be around." Kass had to agree; Vortex had gone from being socially-impaired to socially-starving ever since they had noticed he was crushing on Rachel.

"I read somewhere that the best way to deal with this kind of thing is for us to lock you both in a closet," Danny spoke up, smiling at their mini-circle, outside of the group of mechs. Only Bluestreak was lingering next to them, having eaten the previous night. "Too bad we're really far from a city, and Vortex wouldn't fit in one anyway."

Rachel gave the older woman a strained glare. "Where the hell did you read that, the Sorority Girl Guidebook?" she asked, sarcastic.

Danny frowned, crossing her arms defensively. " _No_. A magazine with face paint supplies and half-naked people. Wheeljack didn't let me keep the completely naked people ones." Danny paused and then suddenly looked wistful. "I'm always jealous that they didn't have to wear clothing."

Kass felt her eye twitch. " _And_ the awkward comment of the year goes to a human for once!" she began, gesturing widely with her arms. "Somebody better tell Wheeljack and Vortex they have competition this year." Rachel and Barns both laughed at that.

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed, upset.

"You know what? Never mind," Rachel said. Grimacing, she shook her finger at her audience. "No telling him! Anything!"

Barns sighed heavily, nodding. "I agree," he said, though he didn't seem happy about it. "He would only have more worries to be concerned with. Best let sleeping dogs lie, and all."

There was a small creak and Kass looked up. Bluestreak knew about their awareness of the situation for a couple days, so they didn't mind him listening in. However, Kass knew that look on his faceplates and immediately braced herself for it.

"Vortex isn't a dog, Barns," Bluestreak said, though his voice implied a question of, _Why did you say that?_

Rachel dropped her head into her blankets. "Fucking _kill_ me," she mumbled into the cloth.

Bluestreak flinched back, stunned and alarmed. " _What_? !" he exclaimed. Kass groaned into her hands.

"That was an exaggeration, damn it!" Rachel yelled back, lifting her head to do so, and to glare at the startled mech.

"What's wrong?" Wheeljack asked, surprised, as he walked closer.

"Rachel wants to die—!" Bluestreak blurted.

" _JESUS H. CHRIST_ , SHUT UP! JUST _SHUT UP_!"

"Vhat happened?" Wildrider asked, peering up from behind Barns, Kass and Danny, having crept up with almost unnatural ease. Next to Jazz, he was always the most interested in group drama.

"Rachel's having men problems," Danny announced cheerfully.

Wildrider barely batted an optic, the glee fading from his faceplates. "Oh. _That_."

"Let's just get breakfast," Kass said shortly, trying to be heard over the cacophony of screaming. Yes. Just another Monday…

 **0000**

Barns had been rolling up his bedding when a sudden sound made him jump.

"Ouch!" Danny yelped. According to Barns' mental catalogue of _Sounds My Human/Mech Friends Make_ , it wasn't a life-threatening yelp, but certainly one of pain.

"What's the matter?" he asked, turning to the woman, who was still on the ground on her pallet.

Grimacing, Danny was trying to stretch her one leg out. "Charley Horse. Owww," she complained. "I hate those."

Barns frowned in sympathy and the other two women by the fire also agreed the cramp was painful. The mechs had given them a quick look at Danny's initial yell, but had almost turned away once they realized Danny wasn't seriously hurt.

However…

" _Horses_?" Bluestreak blurted. He smiled happily over by Wheeljack, having just gotten his energon ration. "I love horses! I mean, I've never seen one personally, but the pictures of them in Wheeljack's data files are so pretty. They look like deer. Are they deer?"

Barns laughed quietly, turning back to his blankets. "No, no, no, it's not a horse," Danny explained, giggling as well. "I have a cramp in my leg."

The grey mech's smile slowly faded. "But you said…"

"It's just a phrase, Bluestreak," Kass said wearily, drying a pan.

Bluestreak frowned, seriously contemplating the situation. "Do horses cause cramps?" he asked.

"Only for your aft," Jazz called from across the meadow. Rachel burst out laughing and even Thundercracker rumbled in amusement.

"Jazz, not helping," Kass shot back, irritated. Wildrider cackled, but a quick smack from Arcee shut him up.

"Why can't you just say you have a cramp?" Bluestreak demanded. Barns sighed, knowing this wouldn't end until the inquisitive mech got an answer.

"Charley Horse is a name for a specific _kind_ of cramp," Danny replied, still stretching her leg. The minor pain was making her a bit more irritated than normal, Barns noted.

"But why name it after an animal that doesn't have anything to do with the cramp?" Bluestreak asked, insistent.

Danny hesitated. "I… have no idea," she admitted. "I just learned it from these guys. Ask Pre-War humans if you ever get the chance."

The frown never left Bluestreak's faceplates as he stared down at Danny with an intense look. "Humans are strange," he concluded, hilariously severe.

"Story of my _LIFE_ ," Vortex snarled; the entire time, he had been twitching with the urge to smack the grey Autobot.

"Shut up," all four humans snapped in unison. Wildrider and Jazz burst out laughing.

 **0000**

It came out of nowhere. Jazz thought his audio receptors had been fritzing out and even had Wheeljack double check afterward, just to be sure. It wasn't a bad thing, but… it was… startling.

While attempting to travel through a dense swampy area somewhere in Western Europe, the group was torn between walking in silence to keep up an alert awareness of any incoming drones, and just talking for the sake of talking, to ward away the creepy silence the swamp seemed to emanate. The fog was not helping much and the overhanging trees made it difficult for the mechs to move quietly.

As usual, small conversations broke out, most likely just to pass the time, Jazz mused. He didn't join in right away and let the humans start up a rather old, but always amusing conversation.

"Say it again," Rachel goaded as they trudged through the mud.

"No," Kass replied, almost in a grunt. She crossed her arms as they plodded through the damp environment, looking resolved not to speak. The mechs were only partially interested in the situation, though Wildrider looked like he was about to join in.

Danny was just as merciless as Jazz or Barns could be sometimes. "Saaaay it."

"Bloody hell what do you want me to—oh, _bollocks_!" Kass sputtered, indignant as her friends began to laugh at her unique vocabulary. Being the only one who spoke with a British accent often made her the subject of interest for both mechs and humans alike. The same could be said of the French-speaking Barnaby, but only Kass got flustered like that under pressure. "I swear to _God_! I don't have a single ally in this group when you're picking on me. It's not fair."

"Blue loves you, right?" Barns said, laughing. "There's an ally."

Kass snorted, shaking her head. " _Ha_!"

Chuckling, Jazz was almost tempted to tell the others to lay off the irate woman (at least until they got out of that horrible swamp), but as they stopped for Vortex and Thundercracker to inspect the area before they went any further, Bluestreak suddenly spoke up.

"Of course I care about Kass!" he said, smiling kindly at her, garnering everyone's attention. "You're the apple of my heart, after all."

There was a sudden silence and everyone turned to look at the mech who had spoken. Bluestreak, oblivious to the stares, continued to smile down at his tiny friend, who stared back in astonishment. Kass, never one to do well under pressure, fumbled with her next words.

"I-I… uh…" She smiled nervously, though she was clearly touched by Bluestreak's declaration. "I love you too, Blue. Thank you."

Bluestreak beamed, pleased that he had done so well with the situation. Jazz tried to hide his grin as he watched the scene play out. Yeah, every day was another learning experience, for all of them, in all sorts of ways.

Laughter resumed as Rachel poked fun at Kass's verbal stumbling and the girls swept off with ease ahead of the group once Thundercracker gave the all clear. Jazz was happy they had each other to laugh with. He walked over and clasped Bluestreak around the shoulder, cheerfully glad that the mech was picking up the nuances of their friends. It wasn't easy, Jazz knew that from his experience with Prowl, but hey, Bluestreak was a smart mech. They all had time to adjust and move forward.

"…Jazz?" Bluestreak asked after a moment of silently watching the humans walk ahead.

Jazz looked up at the gunner, smiling. "Yup?"

"What does 'apple of my heart' mean?"

 

  


* * *

  


**End _Literal_** **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Thundercracker commentates on human talent.**

* * *

 **  
** **A/Ns** :  
\- "Apple of my heart" is actually incorrect (it should be "eye" instead of "heart"). XD Give Bluestreak some credit for trying, however.


	37. Creativity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

It was a monotonous morning, just like the last. Thundercracker didn't mind the mundane, however, unlike his more adventurous mate. The only thing that was seemingly out of the norm was the fact that Jazz and Rachel weren't at the camp. Thundercracker had barely spent a few clicks online before Jazz informed him that he and Rachel were going to get water for the humans. The river was just down the hill, so they shouldn't be gone long. It was still peculiar to sit there in the lazy silence his remaining two companions created.

Thundercracker had thought it dangerous to welcome Wheeljack and his adopted kin, the child called Danielle, into their group. Larger numbers attracted more attention from the drones. Then again, Wheeljack's invention of an energon converter had saved the mechs from needing to use the less effective and far more corrosive human gasoline.

They weren't unbearable company, he had to admit. Danielle—or Danny, as she now insisted on being called—was good company for Rachel (or at least provided a nice distraction). Thundercracker had expected the Autobot to be harder to handle, but Wheeljack was always very polite. He was a nervous mech, but he never antagonized or tried to bother the Decepticon jet. In return, Thundercracker also left him alone.

On this particular day, Wheeljack was tinkering with spare parts again and Danny was sitting on her bedding, distracting herself with some toy that Thundercracker assumed she had taken from a city. Rachel did that sometimes, though mostly with books or writing implements. Danny seemed far _simpler_ in her tastes, not going for books as much as she went for colorful plastic things Jazz told him were entertaining for younglings.

Thundercracker wasn't sure what drew him to observe the humans most times. Boredom perhaps. Or just curiosity. He had spent eons observing mechs, and from Starscream he had learned to take in new sights and appreciate them, to learn from them—all for science, of course. He had spent time watching the human military units during the war, identifying their tactics and weaknesses. And during the time he had spent with Rachel, and now Danny, he'd come to realize that if watched long enough, humans would never fail to do something strange that he would either learn from or be left to dwell on in confusion until his processors threatened to overheat.

Danny was definitely more… interesting than Rachel was, both habit-wise as well as in her physique. Until he'd met her he'd had no idea humans came in multiple skin tones; Rachel was quite white and pink while Danny was a light brown color. This small human held entire conversations with herself, constantly asked questions, and seemed very intent on wearing as little clothing as possible. Rachel always complained about the cold, so she wore clothing to an opposite degree. Thundercracker sat there, pondering their differences (both physical and otherwise), as Danny fumbled with her toy, picking up a stick—

And then, she began to malfunction.

Thundercracker flinched as a series of strange sounds drifted up from the child, who was aimlessly scribbling into the dirt with the stick now. He focused his audio receptors to try to distinguish any intelligent message in the mumbling the human was making, but it was almost impossible. She had a strange pitch to her voice as the noise continued.

An uneasy feeling entered Thundercracker's chestplates. " _Wheeljack_ ," he said, looking up at the mech, speaking their own language.

The Decepticon in his spark chuckled darkly as the Autobot scientist flinched at the sound of his name being spoken. Thundercracker knew Wheeljack was still very nervous, even afraid, of him. It had only been about three months since the five of them had joined forces. Thundercracker wasn't sympathetic to the Autobot scientist's concerns. He wasn't going to hurt either him or the Danielle child, but he didn't mind a healthy fear of himself.

" _Ah—yes_?" Wheeljack stuttered, giving Thundercracker a wary and frantic look. He had been working blindly on some invention that had to do with weather prediction. As much as it could have been useful, it was still pointless to work on something they all knew wouldn't work from just spare parts.

" _Your sparkling is damaged_ ," Thundercracker replied, bluntly. He glanced downward at Danny, who remained oblivious to the attention.

Panic was abruptly etched into the other mech's faceplates. " _What_? !" Wheeljack exclaimed. He dropped his tools and quickly set his optics on the child, probably analyzing various medical scans of her. " _She's… she hasn't moved since I last looked. What's wrong_?"

Rumbling darkly, Thundercracker gestured at the human youngling. " _Listen to its noise_ ," he snapped. It was an obvious defect.

Wheeljack stared at Danny for a tense moment, optics blazing. Then, suddenly, he sat back, nearly limp with relief. "… _Oh_." Turning to Thundercracker, the mech suddenly made an amused sound. " _She's not malfunctioning, Thundercracker. Thank you for alerting me, however_."

Thundercracker snarled. " _What the slag do you_ mean _its not malfunctioning_?" he demanded. " _That's not even English_."

Earfins flashing innocently, Wheeljack tilted his head. " _She's making up words to go with a song_ ," he explained simply.

Something was severely off about that conclusion. _"…What the frag_?" Thundercracker demanded.

The amusement never once left Wheeljack's optics or tone. "Danny enjoys singing, just for fun," he said in English, shrugging. Thundercracker knew the mech had picked up human habits for the benefit of his charge, but it was awkward for mechs as large as they both were to pull off those movements. "Sometimes she likes to make up her own lyrics for things. Not all of it is intelligible, but it's harmless."

That… made absolutely _no_ fragging sense. It was worse than Rachel's incessant need to have clothing on at all times and her subsequent freaking out if any of the mechs peeked by accident as she was changing. Thundercracker wanted to ask for a more concise answer, but metal creaking and heavy footsteps alerted him to Jazz and Rachel's return.

"Ooooh, I love music!" Jazz exclaimed, sweeping into the scene and conversation from out of nowhere, Rachel at his side. After placing the bucket of water next to the fire, he plopped down on the ground with an astonishingly fluid motion, settling right next to Danny, who finally looked up in surprise at her new audience. "Whatcha doin', Danny?"

While initially timid of both new mechs, Danny had warmed up especially fast to Jazz. "I'm drawin'," she replied, confident.

"I see," Jazz said, smiling brightly. He was a complete _idiot_ , Thundercracker thought darkly. "You listenin' t' music?"

Danny, biting her lip, nodded. She seemed completely focused on doing the same nothing she had been doing for the last twenty minutes. "Yup."

Grinning, Jazz continued to provoke the conversation. "I didn't know ya had a music player," he said pleasantly. Rachel rolled her eyes and got the water boiling for their lunch. "What're they called, MP3 players?"

"I dunno," Danny mumbled. She held up the gray device that, apparently, played music for the child. "'Jack found one and fixed it for me. I have all sorts of songs." Smiling, she held up the wired part of the player. "Want to listen?"

Jazz laughed, pushing up from the ground. "I doubt it'll fit my audio receptors, but thank ya kindly, Danny," he said. "You sing along t' th' songs?"

"Yeaaah, but this song isn't in English," Danny said, scrunching up her face. "I think… maybe it's German."

"Cooool," Jazz said, grinning, encouraging. "Did 'Jack ever let ya listen t' some of th' good stuff like _The Beatles_ —?"

Danny's love of music was more than just a passing hobby or distraction. She used the device often, sometimes even walking with it, humming nonsensically with the words coming from the tiny speakers. She'd offer it to Rachel sometimes, but the paler human was hesitant to wear the speakers, since it blocked one of her most important senses. Thundercracker had felt a strange flare of pride; his youngling might not enjoy music as much, but at least she had better self-preservation instincts.

And then a few years later Danny burst out into song one morning and, quite unexpectedly, sounded… quite good.

"Vhatttt is _that_?" Wildrider demanded, optics huge. Thundercracker had stopped dead at the new sounds. These were not the sounds of malfunction. They were… uniform. Elevated. Coherent. A song.

"Singing!" Danny exclaimed, twirling around dramatically. Yes, she was Jazz-incarnate. Thundercracker was immensely glad Rachel took after _him_ instead of his mate.

"I didn't know you were that good, kid!" Jazz exclaimed. Even Rachel clapped, amused. "Nice job."

Danny made another sound—a familiar one this time. Thundercracker knew it was the child's way of laughing. A giggle, Jazz had called it. "I didn't know I could do it either," she said, with another giggle. She scrolled through the list of songs, ready to try again. "Hmmm. Let's see. I really like this one song. It's all about stairs and a place called heaven."

She sang whenever there was reason to, or rather, whenever there _wasn't_ a reason. When someone was upset or there was a bad day in general, Danny would do her best to cheer up the most solemn member of their group, by singing a silly song, or just humming something comforting. When Goddard was killed, she spent many nights humming Barnaby to sleep.

Thundercracker had never expected something like the production of a few simple tones in a fairly limited frequency range to have an emotional affect on anyone. Then again, even he sometimes felt his spark tremble when a particular song—human songs had the most sentimental lyrics he had ever heard—struck a nerve with him.

He didn't understand it overall. Certainly, he had his own appreciation for music, but on Cybertron the production of music had been reserved for musicians. It required specific programming and vorns of apprenticeship to become a musician. It seemed that humans broke all kinds of rules, however, or at least the rules that had applied to the mechs. Apparently humans didn't need specific programming to create or appreciate music, or maybe they came with the programming coded already. Perhaps Danny's parents had been musicians. They would never know for certain, so he let it drop. It didn't help to try to figure out every quirk the humans possessed.

 **0000**

The other three humans also had skills. Barnaby was a powerful talker. Not like Megatron or Starscream, whose wicked vocalizers could stir up political revolt or intrigue. No, Barns was just a "people-person" as Jazz called it. The boy could talk anyone into comfort, even enemies. He could make _anyone_ laugh, even the stoic Arcee. When they had first met, it hadn't taken long for Thundercracker to realize that the boy had the potential to rival Jazz when it came to the art of conversation, after all he _had_ been the one to convince Vortex to stay with him and Goddard. And over the years Barns had probably single-handedly saved their group from dissolving many, many times. But for all his ability to speak well and persuasively, he'd never impressed Thundercracker as being very creative. Not in the same way as the other humans had.

Kass was also very logical in her thought processes, and she had easily hidden away her gift for art under her matter-of-fact mechanic's attitude. The others had not discovered her gift until rather late in their group's formation. The incident with Wildrider's paint job was never far from their minds when Kass brought out a piece of paper to sketch on, or her artistic skills were mentioned in passing. Mostly, Thundercracker assumed they kept it to themselves, as he did, instead of torturing the sensitive girl about her artwork.

He had never paid much attention to art on Cybertron. It was a small thing, even less important to the military builds than music had been. The common consensus among his kin and brethren had been that it did nothing for the well-being of the empire. It was for recreation only, enjoyed mainly by wealthy elites who had been brought online with, or been upgraded to have, the proper programming. Kassandra, apparently, had the programming.

She could draw anything, or at least, that was how it seemed. Plant life and scenery were common targets for her sketches. Sometimes she drew her human friends (" _Bluestreak, sweetie, you're a giant robot. I'm not sure my skills could handle that right now_.") When the teasing was either cut off or faded away, her audience would sit amazed at what her hands and meager tools of charcoal and pencils could create.

"My mum taught me how to draw. Anatomy and all," the dark-haired woman would say, laughing quietly, always humble. "She taught me a lot. All I know, really."

Thundercracker, after witnessing the others' talents, couldn't help but feel a little curious about how and why the young woman drew. He hadn't known her during her primary development period, as he had Rachel and Danny, and he felt strange asking her about it (as if he felt any better approaching the humans he'd known longer), considering how skittish she was with being put on the spot.

Strangely enough, that day, she had approached him. Kass had been sitting by herself, across the campfire from the seated jet, looking intensely at her notepad.

"What should I draw?" she asked abruptly, obviously directing the question at him.

Thundercracker stared at her, his processors trying to keep up. He had never been asked that question before, ever, and certainly not by Kass, who was still timid with all of the mechs except Bluestreak.

"I have no idea," he answered, honestly. He wouldn't even know a basic response to that, let alone a personal opinion. She generally stuck to 'still-life' objects, like the wildlife around them, at least to the parts that were still remotely intact and worth the effort of sketching them.

Kass glanced at him—twice, nervously—but stayed mostly focused on her tablet of blank paper. Rachel's paper had lines on it, but this paper was apparently designed for art specifically. Most times she used scraps she picked up from cities, like old posters or the backs of papers with writing on the front. She would scribble on the pages of books that her friends were finished with (though the one time she drew a rather ornate forest scene in a novel Danny hadn't finished yet had caused some problems).

"…You change into a plane, right?" she suddenly asked. Her accent was different from any of the others. It made her sound like some sort of Iaconian elite, or a member of the council.

Tilting his head, the ex-Decepticon nodded. "Yes."

The human suddenly smiled, though the gesture was directed at the tablet still. "I'll draw you as a plane, then," she said. From the tone of her voice, Thundercracker thought she was joking, teasing.

A stray thought hit him as he gazed around their half-empty campsite.

"You've never seen me transformed completely," he said. He wasn't sure why he felt awkward saying that. He had never placed himself into a piece of creative material, picture or written work. It had never even crossed his processors, actually.

Kass blinked and gave him a strange look, obviously surprised but also considering his answer.

"…We have another hour at least?" she said, shrugging. It was true; Jazz, Barns, Rachel and Wheeljack had gone ahead to do some scouting. Either their maps of the area were inaccurate or they had lost their way somehow. While they were scouting, Danny and Kass had set up the camp and started dinner, which Danny was watching while talking to Wildrider. It seemed they did have some time before dusk.

So, with a rather human shrug to indicate 'why not?,' Thundercracker transformed and allowed the woman to draw him.

He had realized early in their acquaintance that he primarily liked Kass for her gift of silence. The other humans were endearing most times, but they needed so much interaction. Through many vorns of exposure to Starscream and Skywarp, Thundercracker had come to appreciate silent, restful companions. Within a few minutes of his transformation, Bluestreak and Wildrider had taken an interest in the artist and her subject, but they didn't say much. Danny kneaded dough for the next morning's breakfast and Vortex was pointedly uninterested. Thundercracker was surprised he didn't mind being under such careful scrutiny as Kass scribbled and focused on him and the paper with an intensity he wasn't used to seeing from the human.

The others returned after about forty minutes. "Holy Primus on a stick," Jazz blurted before cracking up as he saw Thundercracker just parked there in his jet-mode. He grinned at Thundercracker clearly relieved by the sight, so the jet knew he had done right by this.

"If you're going to blaspheme, at least use something that has some intelligence behind it," Vortex snapped irritably. He had been ignoring the entire situation.

Kass shook her head. "I'm sketching him," she answered Jazz, working on the image, smudging areas to make them darker where the light was less intense.

"It's really nice so far," Danny added, smiling brightly. Clearly more aware of her surroundings than Thundercracker would have given her credit for, she had been sneaking looks the entire time.

Rachel plopped down next to Kass, interested. "Can I see?" She and the other two humans (Wildrider also loomed curiously behind them) shared the sketch pad as they looked at Kass's work.

"Wonderful job," Wheeljack said amiably. "You even have the shadows and highlights done." The jet on the page, although not a mirror image of himself, seemed to be rather accurate and three-dimensional from Thundercracker's point of view.

"I think the nose is wrong," Barns suddenly said, pointing carefully at the paper. Kass made a face, apparently agreeing with him, glancing up at Thundercracker's frame as she redid that part of the drawing.

"Planes have noses?" Danny asked, stunned. She sent Thundercracker's form a wild look. " _Where_?"

Laughter was shared and explanations were given. The camp resumed to its normal activities as daylight faded and Kass was forced to wrap up the sketching session. Thundercracker transformed back and found himself placed as the art critic, with Kass holding up her drawing so he could see it.

Thundercracker hesitated."…It's very good." He felt stupid for saying it, but it felt right. Compliments were always key with humans. It wasn't horrible either. Then again, he wasn't an _artist_.

Kass laughed again. "Thanks, TC," she said softly. She held the drawing up to him to take, her eyes as kind as her voice. "Here. You can trash it if you want."

Only Jazz knew that he had kept the drawing. His mate had smirked at his expense, but he had never told Kass, or anyone else, that Thundercracker kept the drawing secure in his subspace. Thundercracker was grateful that he got that much consideration. He told himself that it wasn't because he felt an emotional attachment to the drawing. It just didn't seem intelligent to destroy it. After all, Kass had put a lot of work into it and it would be rude and unnecessarily cruel to just drop it like garbage.

When or how the meager creative works of an organic had become anything more than garbage… Thundercracker had no idea. He couldn't find the will to care to know, either.

 **0000**

Rachel didn't like him. Or at least, she hadn't liked him at the beginning of their strange and unique _partnership_. Jazz, always the friendly mech, had won the defensive child over within the first few weeks. But Rachel moved far more carefully around Thundercracker, both physically and emotionally. Jazz made her laugh, made her feel cared for, and she responded to both by opening up to him. But whenever she even looked at Thundercracker, she clammed up. At first Thundercracker had thought it was fear, but after watching her deal with real fear (a night-time drone attack) he realized it had to be something else.

He told himself that it didn't matter. It (not she) was just a human youngling that really had no worth to him. Jazz got attached easily, but Thundercracker kept his distance from Rachel just as much as she did with him. He told himself that their mutual avoidance techniques would ensure that things would work out fine.

But the days turned to weeks and they found themselves actually living and traveling together… and one day Thundercracker onlined to realize that a subroutine he had never expected to experience had been activated. After that morning, whenever they were attacked or Rachel had a scare of any sort Thundercracker felt a fear of his own. A silent, unmistakable urge to protect her flared up in his spark. He couldn't deny it. The child had become something like an adopted sparkling. She… mattered.

So when she turned away from him in silent (albeit respectful) silence, it started to bother him. Somewhat. Only… a little. Thundercracker didn't want to think that a human child's opinion of him mattered, but as Jazz put it, "ya always want yer child's attention." He had never hated sparklings. He had sometimes thought about a what-if universe where he and Skywarp might have had one. But instead of that reality he had this one - an Autobot mate and an organic youngling who only showed him disdain. It wasn't the ideal situation.

When he had (reluctantly) approached Jazz about it, the silver mech had surprisingly given him a serious answer without even a single joke at his expense. Jazz had suggested he "get to know" Rachel by just prompting the conversation himself, instead of waiting for her to do so. Perhaps the problem was that _Thundercracker_ came off as the uninterested one, Jazz reasoned, so Rachel stayed away. It was up to the jet to fix it.

Bending to an organic's whims… it was ridiculous and degrading for him as a Deception solider. Then again… he wasn't a Decepticon anymore. But still he had his honor and this was embarrassing.

The only thing driving him to act was the urge to at least smooth things over. It was just the three of them. They had to function well as a group, to survive. It was just something he had to do, cooperating with the child.

He wasn't the friendliest or most outgoing mech, he never had been; he wasn't upset about that in the least. But he would have to make the effort if he was to get the human child to like him… and he was no Autobot. Jazz assured him that he just had to do his best. Thundercracker wasn't sure how that would help, but one morning, when Jazz had slipped off to scout from a hilltop ahead of their camp, he decided to just try it.

"What are you doing?" he blurted at the human who sat opposite him, silently scribbling away at a tablet of 'paper.'

Rachel flinched visibly, looking up in surprise, and he immediately regretted how harsh he sounded. The entire area had been utterly quiet before, so Thundercracker knew he probably spoke a bit too fast (and loudly). He waited for her to reply, his spark uncomfortable.

"Nothing," the child snapped. She drew back emotionally, as usual, her lips forming a frown of displeasure and she went back to her 'writing.' Apparently, humans had their own forms of calligraphy.

Thundercracker sat there, knowing he had messed up his first attempt, and he contemplated the next best move.

"Stop it."

The abrupt speech startled the jet into looking up at the human. "Stop what?" he asked. Oops. That sounded too defensive. Rachel glared up at him. Even if she was leery about talking to him, she refused to back down from things she feared.

"Staring," she snapped, irritated.

Thundercracker rumbled lowly, watching her carefully, before averting his gaze. "Sorry." Well, that failed miserably.

Several minutes later, Thundercracker still had nothing to say. Rachel kept writing, ignoring him with supernatural skill. Jazz would have known what to say; Thundercracker scowled out at nothing, not sure why he was still trying. It was just a child.

…A child he was beginning to view as his responsibility. Just has he saw Jazz as someone to care about. Because… that's what happened now, on this planet, in this hellhole. People who lasted and hung around for longer than a week or a run-in with drones grew beyond just being _strangers_.

They became _important_.

"I have never seen human text," Thundercracker found himself saying, before he could think twice.

Surprisingly, Rachel didn't hesitate to reply, even if it was in an irritated voice. "We pass billboards all the time," she muttered.

"Texts, not letters," Thundercracker replied, avoiding her snark. "You write often."

Rachel glanced at him, eyes narrowed. "If this is your way of bonding, stick to saying nothing," she began, challenging, "'cause I like silence more than Jazz's stupidity."

A stray thought entered his processors. Perhaps it would be best to play this as Jazz would. "Liar," he accused.

"I'm _not_ a liar," Rachel exclaimed, suddenly defensive. She glared at him with even more intensity; she was always easily riled by insults toward her character.

Thundercracker let her aggression work for him. "Then you don't speak the truth," he replied coldly. He gestured with his hand. "What are you writing?"

"I—," she began, faltering. She stopped talking and looked down at her book, as if noticing something for the first time.

Waiting, the ex-Decepticon expected her to shut up entirely again and return to ignoring him. He wasn't expecting her to slowly rise to her feet and walk over to him, clutching her tablet close to her chest, finally letting her eyes reach his as she stopped short of the metal giant.

And then, she held it out to him. A tiny book, which probably was only a quarter of the size of the tip of his finger. Rachel stared up at him, eternally fearless, waiting for his reaction.

Thundercracker grasped the delicate square and, using moderate magnification, deciphered the text.

It wasn't a complicated assortment of words. Just a few short paragraphs, telling a short story, of people Thundercracker was certain didn't exist, or at least that he had ever met. It was nothing like the academic scripts from Iacon, or the spiritual literature of pre-Golden Age times. It was strangely… _Rachel_.

"…You are very descriptive," he said after a moment, lowering the tablet. Rachel was just staring at him, defensive as always.

She shrugged after a moment, looking away finally. "Only thing I'm good at. Writing, I mean. And surviving." Rachel snorted, glancing back at him with a strange expression. "What… don't you aliens have literature?"

"Not like this," Thundercracker replied, avoiding the jab. Pausing for a moment, he handed the book back to her. "…Good work."

He didn't know if it actually was a good job, compared to other human texts, but he knew enough of human behaviors to know compliments were expected. At the very least, Thundercracker was impressed by her literacy.

Rachel hesitated, having to reach up on her toes to grab the book back, and sat down in a silent huff.

"…Thanks," she finally muttered, meeting his eyes, before turning back to writing.

He decided to start reading more human literature from Jazz's archives. Just for reference.

Later, when they discussed it in the dark as the child slept peacefully near the fire, Jazz said he'd made a good start. Thundercracker wasn't sure he agreed entirely, but he had to admit, at least the child would hold his gaze longer than just a split second now. He wasn't one for conversation to begin with, so it didn't matter if she didn't chat with him as often as she would with Jazz. They weren't always alone, either, but when they were, Thundercracker was pleased to see her sitting closer and even in a relaxed pose when they were by themselves.

One of those rare times, they were by a recreation area, a "city park." Thundercracker hadn't noticed what Rachel was doing until he looked up and saw her using a silver bottle of paint to spray words onto the faded and crumbling concrete of a bridge. Thundercracker watched her, unsure exactly what the purpose of her writing was.

"What are you doing?" he asked after a while.

Rachel didn't even turn around to answer, spraying word after word onto the brick. "Writing."

Thundercracker stared at her back, frowning deeper. "…On the wall," he repeated.

"Yeah, birdbrain, what's it to you?" she challenged, glancing over her shoulder.

Insults meant familiarity. Thundercracker fought the urge to smirk. "Why on a wall?" he prompted.

Rachel released a short puff of air. "Because—," she began, but then she stopped abruptly. "I don't know," she conceded, frowning. She stood back from the wall and stared up at the three or four lines of words she had painted before glancing over at the jet. "Is it stupid?"

The way she said it was strange, at least for Rachel. She never questioned her own actions, at least not out loud. She was always decisive. Thundercracker carefully read the small verse, which was apparently a poem about pre-war times.

"I don't know," he admitted. He was not a good judge for something like this. Inwardly, he was pleased that she would even turn to him for advice of any sort.

"…I… like the idea of leaving something here. In case people see it later," she answered, picking up the can again, embellishing the words. "I usually don't like showing my stuff, but if its anonymous, why not?"

She spoke in a flippant manner, not unlike Jazz when he got defensive. Thundercracker rumbled lowly, watching her move.

"Why anonymous, though? You won't get credit," he said, still not understanding.

Rachel made the sighing sound again, her arm pausing, her gaze caught by something beyond the concrete wall. "Yeah," she replied. "But that's not the point."

Optics furrowing, Thundercracker tilted his head further. "What is the point?" he asked.

Standing back, the child, barely of age according to Jazz, stared up at her creation, her gaze and mind captured by something that Thundercracker couldn't see. He could imagine, however. They all knew war and death… and what this place meant to a being like Rachel, who knew this place as home instead of just a prison. She wasn't a child, not when she stared like that.

"…This place is dead," she said at last, gesturing up at the wall. " _I'm_ dead. Everyone is dead, or we all soon will be. Fact of life." She shrugged her shoulders, effortlessly, in a way that only a mech as flexible as Jazz could hope to imitate. "Doesn't mean I can't leave a part of me behind."

A grim justification, but a justification nonetheless. "…I see," Thundercracker said quietly.

Rachel dropped the can and stood back to observe her work. After a bit, she walked over and lay down on the ground, limbs spread, looking tired, but content.

Thundercracker watched her silently, considering what he had just witnessed.

"Humans are indeed creative," he murmured, turning away.

Rachel grinned up at him from the grass, eyes shining for a variety of reasons. Companionship was perhaps one of them, as well as her own grief. "Kiss-ass," she joked.

He turned sharp red eyes down at her, snapping "Brat!" even as his spark lightened.

He shouldn't have felt as good as he did to hear her laugh and to become more than just an alien to her. Humans were creative, but they were also strange. They made him do strange things and feel stranger.

In the end, he could live with that.

 

* * *

 **End _Creativity_** **.**

 _**Next** _ **: What exactly happened fifty years ago?**

* * *

 **  
**

**A/Ns** :  
-Danny's nationality is a bit of a mystery (and rather unimportant haha) but since some of you have mentioned before that you didn't know what the humans looked like: Danny is most likely of Arabic descent, probably from Spain, Barns is a brunette Frenchman, Rachel's rather Nordic looking, and Kass has black hair and typically pale skin from the British Isles. :)


	38. Fifty Years Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

**Mission City, Nevada  
Summer, 2007**

It hadn't started with something unexpected. They had all known what the worst outcome could be. Death was part of the job. Devastation was normal. They were prepared for it.

Jazz only wished that when the worst had happened, Earth had been ready, too.

The human military had never really had a chance against the Decepticons. Even though the handful of soldiers to survive the destruction of their base in Qatar had quickly learned how to damage the 'Cons, it was clear that they hadn't had enough time, enough exposure to Cybertronians to be able to take the upper hand in battle yet. Jazz had realized too late that their weapons weren't strong enough, their armor was far too fragile. They had made a daring move to grab the All Spark and to get it away from the exposed Hoover Dam base—and they had succeeded. But it had turned into a chase—as it always did. For the last hundred vorns all they had done was chase or be chased. Mission City had been no different.

But it wasn't until Optimus was separated from the pack that Jazz really started to worry. He had enough experience with tactics to know that it could be their downfall. Megatron was alive and kicking, flying their way, and well, they really didn't have much of a chance without Prime. Jazz followed the human military vehicles into the unaware city, from which they hoped to be able to airlift the All Spark to a more secure location. Bumblebee had argued that he should get Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes out of there ASAP, but for the Autobots as well as the human military Sam's safety was no longer a priority. The Cube was of primary importance. If the Decepticons obtained it, the war would be lost for both humans and Autobots.

They got as far as the center of downtown when Jazz realized how bad things were.. He had been trying to comm Optimus to get his position, trying to speak to the human military but he was clearly being jammed. And then— _everything_ went wrong.

Starscream attacked. The street was blown to Pit and back. Buildings were falling, cars flew through the air. Humans were screaming and running for their lives. Jazz stumbled out of the communication link and saw… well… Hell.

Sam was dead, killed by an explosion that rained debris down from the buildings around them. Bumblebee was severely injured, his last gesture to force the Cube into Jazz's hands. Jazz high-tailed it out of there, knowing they had to get the All Spark out of such an indefensible location, knowing that the Decepticons would follow the lure of the Cube. Ironhide and Ratchet came with him to run interference, but they didn't get far—and not without consequence. Ratchet died fending off a tank from hapless civilians. Attacked by Megatron, Jazz transformed to defend himself and the Cube was lost in the struggle. The next thing Jazz knew, Optimus had the Cube.

Optimus was fighting for life—not just his own—and on the other side Megatron was fighting for power. The leaders of both factions made that last battle a scramble to hold onto the miniscule metal box. Optimus got it first and did what he had planned to do all along—he shoved the Cube into his own chest. The resulting explosion killed him and took out Megatron, who made a last grab for it, and well, that was it. For that day.

Jazz had found Mikaela desperately trying to save Bumblebee, stop the energon loss and keep his spark alive, but without Ratchet, it was another losing battle. He had just waited with her until Bee's optics faded and his body grayed in death. And when she stood and walked away from him without a backwards glance, he went with her.

Once they reached a safe location, Mikaela had just looked at Jazz, looked at what was left of them all. Ironhide was rolling on damaged axles and William Lennox had to bury the majority of his squad, including his long time friend Robert Epps. Jazz himself was lucky to be alive; grappling with Megatron had been suicide, but the air force had saved his aft. Too bad they hadn't taken Megatron out right there, but well, Jazz knew what was done was done.

Mikaela just stood at Jazz's feet, staring up in shocked and disbelieving silence that first night. She had survived, because she was a warrior at heart. Jazz had smiled at her, even if his spark sang with grief. And they had grieved together.

He had been with her that night three weeks later when the President of the United States had finally bowed to the pressure and announced "We are at war." Jazz understood why it had taken so long—politicians were the same, no matter what planet they came from—eventually it became clear that the world wasn't going to be lied to, and the President had to give a call to arms. "We are at war, not with our fellow man on Earth, but with strangers from distant stars."

Of the Autobots there were only Ironhide and Jazz left, but thank Primus, they got the go-ahead to invite reinforcements. Megatron might have been dead, but Starscream had escaped and they knew it was only a matter of time before he would return. The nearest Autobot reinforcements were on the _Hyperion_ and the _Galaxus_ , but they were still a long ways off.

This would be a long wait.

It was as if they stood in the night watching a large storm roll in, teetering on the edge of something… greater than just another battle. Jazz drove up to a hilltop outside of her hometown at Mikaela's request. They sat, side by side, looking up at the stars mere days after Ironhide had sent the message to their brethren. Jazz liked to imagine he could see the Autobots flying through the inky blackness. The stars reminded him of pins, holding up the cosmos.

"What do we do next?" Mikaela had asked. Hope wasn't a thing she really had, at least, she didn't seem to. He hadn't known her before, he didn't know if she'd always been like this. But it was clear that now she was looking for facts. For a mission. For a reason to keep going.

Jazz glanced at her and then back up at the cold darkness. "We fight."

It went downhill from there.

**00000**

**Spring, 2008**

The Decepticons kept coming. Starscream had fled, vanished for months, and then returned just shy of the first year anniversary of the Qatar attack with a new team of fliers and grounders alike. It was just as Jazz had expected and the rest of the world feared. The war was on.

Jazz and Ironhide hadn't wasted that year. Jazz had seen glimpses of it in Mission City, and now that they were trained and equipped it was clear for all to see that the humans were admirable allies and deadly opponents in great numbers. If anything, they had their sheer multitudes on their side. The Decepticons made a series of mistakes, most likely not to repeat them, but the first few victories of pushing the Decepticons back gave humanity hope.

He was less than pleased when their own Autobot reinforcements were delayed again and again by stray attacks outside of the solar system. Starscream was no fool; he knew where to apply the pressure where it hurt. Jazz and Ironhide were the only mechs left on Earth, and even though the humans were learning rapidly (a survival skill it seemed), he knew strategically they couldn't keep coming out on top.

They kept their eyes peeled for the inevitable counter-assault from Starscream's side. Jazz had been hoping the Decepticon army would have been torn in half by Megatron's demise, with Starscream taking charge of one half while one of the "loyalists" like Shockwave or Soundwave would have taken the other. They hadn't heard a damn thing from either mech, so for now, it was assumed Starscream was in charge. That wasn't overly comforting, especially because the cunning strategist, for all of his cowardice, no longer had Megatron to hold him back.

"He's a planner," Jazz told the human military constantly. "Be on yer guard, because if he strikes, he might not hit hard, but it's going t' be a slaggin' good hit."

So far, it hadn't been too bad. Starscream's troops were surprisingly ground-based, so at least he hadn't gotten his trine in yet. The humans lost a good base in the Pacific and the Russians were finally getting in on the game after they took a rather nasty hit in Moscow. The American government was constantly bickering amongst itself and other governments on how to handle this, with only two Autobots left between them. Ironhide and Jazz decided that they just had to get used to jumping on planes and off of them until reinforcements arrived.

Wherever they went, Mikaela went with them. She quit school, insisting that she would be more useful if she put her skill as a mechanic to good use to become the new Autobot medic. Surprisingly, Lennox and Simmons had supported her, arranging for her to take something called an "equivalency exam" and then giving her as much useful information as they could glean from the Sector7 archives. Jazz taught her what he knew of field treatment protocols and Ironhide trained her on various Cybertronian weapons, helping her to design smaller versions for their human allies and in the process teaching her how to repair damage made by those same weapons. She blossomed into a fierce field medic; privately Jazz thought that Ratchet would have enjoyed working with her.

They got a lead about something stirring up trouble in Mexico. It had been the start of a covert operation, but they got there in time to stop the Decepticons from sabotaging a large electrical grid to steal energon from it. While there, Jazz found himself giving the same speeches he always gave on how to defend against 'Cons and how to prepare for the worst.

While training soldiers at the military base in Culiacan, Jazz heard a commotion over at a surveillance desk. When the radar tech pointed out the discrepancies, Jazz didn't know what to make of it. The small blip on the radar seemed innocent enough, but they couldn't afford to take chances.

"What was that?" he asked, looking up at Ironhide. The soldiers chattered on in Spanish about their own theories.

Ironhide hadn't been paying attention, but he did focus in on the readings. "What was what?"

"Incoming signal on the radar… small." Jazz frowned, downloading the data, but the blip had been far too small to amount to anything. A warship or an incoming mech would have been much larger. "Meteorite?"

"No way a mech's that small, right?" Lennox asked, insistent, as he looked at the computer screen.

Jazz shook his helm. "No. Probably just debris." Unless they were sending in sparklings as prototypes to be suicide bombers. He frequently prayed that the Decepticons would not learn any new tricks from human culture.

Lennox frowned. "Cripes… can't be too careful though." They would increase monitor surveillance back at NEST's main compound, just in case. The threat of Decepticon reinforcements coming in before more Autobots arrived was constantly on their minds.

For himself, Jazz forgot about the readings. They had more important things to worry about.

**00000**

Six days after Jazz got word from the _Galaxus_ that they were approaching the solar system and would be there within a month, their worst fears were realized.

Their satellites had barely had the chance to react to the sudden appearance of a total of five mechs, non-friendly. Jazz knew that was bad in its own right, but over the course of the next forty hours, things went from bad to outright catastrophic.

Megatron lived.

He had no idea what had gone wrong. The U.S. military had done nearly everything they could to render Megatron's sparkless shell inert after Mission City. They had dumped it in the one place they had thought (the mechs had said nothing out of polite respect) was the safest place to store the body of the warlord. The Laurentian Abyss might be deep and cold enough to keep out organics, but Jazz knew it wouldn't be an issue for a mech to reach down to that depth. Ironhide had complained privately that it wasn't even the deepest part of the ocean. It hadn't been a real problem, of course, because the All Spark was gone and nothing else could bring Megatron back to life.

Or so they had thought.

The Decepticons had gotten hold of something. A weapon that apparently could reassemble sparks. Jazz didn't know what it really was and neither did Ironhide. It didn't really matter in the end, because whatever it was, somehow out of the depths, Megatron was reborn. The human patrol ships never stood a chance.

Jazz began to think their run of good luck had effectively strangled itself at that point.

Even though the attacks from the Decepticons on Earth weren't any worse after Megatron's resurrection, things were irreparably changed for all of them. The military of every country went nuts as the facts began to trickle through to them. People panicked over the idea that the one mech they had painted as the bogeyman was now alive again. Jazz had felt a little bit like panicking too.

The first thing they tried to do was to figure out what the hell had happened, but not much information was available. Only a few witnesses had survived the attack on the patrol vessels. A Norwegian fishing boat had been caught in the cross fire, and a few of those men survived. Their accounts were consistent, but none of it made sense. A few mechs had gone down into the abyss and brought another back up with them. It hadn't taken long, either.

"The witnesses mentioned something else, though," the reporting soldier said to them as they sat around, waiting for answers.

Jazz glanced at the man. "Oh?"

The human hesitated; Jazz knew it wasn't because they were speaking. He knew the man from NEST, so it wasn't Jazz's alien status that bothered him. "One of the mechs that fell into the water…" he began, clearly disturbed, "they said he was on _fire_."

"Fire?" Ironhide repeated, stepping close. "From his entry into the atmosphere?"

"I don't know," the solider admitted. He shook his head, eyes narrowed. "They… said it was like… part of the armor."

Jazz wasn't sure how that would even work. It was nothing like he had ever heard of, at least.

"That's impossible," Ironhide said. That didn't stop him from looking nervously over at Jazz, as if he knew an answer.

"Yeah," Mikaela muttered, looking uneasily at the others. "This is just too nuts. I don't like it."

Jazz didn't either. They did their best to find out exactly what fished Megatron out of the depths of the ocean, but there was nothing conclusive. A name, _Fallen_ , was whispered by some of the Decepticons they managed to capture alive, but that meant nothing to any of them. Even the lower ranked Decepticons didn't know what had happened.

Megatron took back power surely and without mercy. Days on Earth grew dimmer.

**00000**

**Fall, 2012**

The Decepticon _Nemesis_ was approaching the solar system, so the Autobot _Hyperion_ had stayed back to hold it off. _Galaxus_ had been destroyed, but several of its shuttles hadn't. Autobot reinforcements arrived in the States, Mexico and parts of the Middle East. Jazz saw faces he never thought he'd see again—one of the twins, Cliffjumper, a few mechs from Special Ops—

But no Prowl.

They could have used him. They needed the strategist and his plans. They could have changed the tide of the war. But no one, from either ship, had heard where the Second in Command had gone to, dead or otherwise. That left Jazz in charge and it would have scared him if he hadn't already been playing SIC for the last forty vorns or so.

Battle became commonplace, everywhere. It was centered in the places that posed the most threat to the Decepticons, as expected. The United States, Western Europe, the Middle East and Russia got most of the fighting. It seemed like every day Jazz heard about an oil field catching fire or another town getting wiped off the map. The humans began to really panic, but the military kept going strong.

Mikaela had officially become a member of Lennox's team. She barely looked like herself in combat fatigues and body armor, with a thinner, paler face. Jazz sort of missed her long hair, but he knew that vanity had long since ended as an option. She followed orders like any other soldier and did a damn good job. And after each battle she would repair any of the damage that he and Ironhide had sustained, and then check over the humans' weapons to make sure they were still in working order. Jazz was proud of her.

After four years there still weren't many mechs on the Earth. The numbers kept creeping upward, even as the fighting started to get nasty. Jazz hoped that whatever plans Megatron had, they would be just as foolhardy and easy to trip up as before. There hadn't been many sightings of the Decepticon warlord lately.

There were rumors, however. Whispered ones from unknown sources. He heard that Megatron was going by a new name: Galvatron. Jazz made a joke out of it to make the humans laugh, but in reality, that bothered him. Name changes were for those who actually had a reason to change it. Most humans didn't understand the meaning of names like mechs did. A name meant more than just an identity—their names _defined_ them.

Equally concerning was the fact that no one ever saw the flaming-armored mech again.

The war continued, increasing in violence as it went. The Autobots were still spread far too thin, but at least Jazz could focus on staying in one place, with Ironhide as his only mech teammate. The Decepticons seemed to have the same idea, but now there were fights happening all over the globe. Jazz was glad Earth was as large as it was; when he considered the fact that mechs were used to fighting on smaller areas of land, he thought that perhaps even if the fighting continued it wouldn't be as devastating for Earth as it had been for Cybertron. There were more places for the innocent to run.

America was always going to be a hotbed for action. They had doomed themselves by stepping into the middle of the war from the start. They were the largest threat, thus the first place to strike, other than the oil-rich Middle East and the nuclear powers of China and Russia. Jazz was used to being roused from half-completed recharge to an alert of an attack happening somewhere on the North American continent.

It had been a normal fight that day, when the world changed forever. It wasn't until later that he learned it wasn't limited to the United States, or even the Americas as a whole. When their team got word of Decepticon movement in the northwest, they went to investigate. There were 'Cons to defeat or destroy, as usual.

But what was strange was that even as the Decepticons began to fall back, their _friends_ didn't.

Jazz had grown used to drones and little fighting pests. Shockwave had been particularly fond of them back on Cybertron, when the war was still just their war and not one that pulled in random species that they encountered. This time, a new form of Decepticon drone helped to drive back significant numbers of the allied armed forces. But when Ironhide blasted through one of the last 'Cons standing, Jazz expected the drones to back off as well.

They didn't. They kept going. They kept slicing and killing and tearing through anything that dared to move. The wave of drones sliced through humans like they were made of butter, for Primus' sake. Jazz managed to get the unprepared humans away and Ironhide was slowly but surely pushing the flying creatures back.

They moved far too fast. Jazz had never seen anything able to move as quickly as they did through the air. And even though there were only two of them, they were somehow pushing back with equal intensity at the two Autobots.

Finally, Ironhide had the sense to grab one of the abandoned military jeeps and hurl it at one of the flying creatures. It hit dead on and the drone let out an unnatural screech, even for a mech's receptors, and collapsed under the weight of the other metal. Sparks shot out and there was an increase of ozone, but the thing stopped moving. Jazz stared down at the crushed creature, stunned, but before any of them had the chance to react, its single red optic flickered on again and like something in water, whipped back into the air. It and the other remaining drone took off.

Jazz stared after it, feeling more than just a little disorientated. "What th' frag _were_ those things?" he asked at last, looking up at the older, wearier Autobot stepping up behind him.

"No idea," Ironhide said. He growled, watching the sky, but the drones never came back. "Clearly some new form of Decepticon."

Frowning, Jazz didn't know what to make of it. The drone didn't look like a mech. "I've never seen any like that b'fore," he admitted. It reminded him of an Earth creature called a squid. "Strange design, too. They didn't seem sentient b'fore…"

"Just drones," Ironhide shrugged in disregard as their human companions started to filter back, asking questions Jazz didn't know how to answer.

The drones, as the military began to call them outright, proved to be both elusive, and yet everywhere. They came up in small numbers with other Decepticons during raids and attacks. The only problem was that they couldn't find a way to _kill_ the little fraggers. It drove Ironhide mad, trying to at least _catch_ the slippery machines. The one they had managed to knock down was apparently just a fluke. Gunfire was ineffective and they were too fast for plasma canons.

But they were only drones, in the end. Jazz and Ironhide had more pressing concerns as the Decepticons continued to descend. _Nemesis_ was getting closer.

**00000**

**Winter, 2018**

Something had happened to the satellites. Outgoing communication dried up to a bare minimum toward the end of 2017. At first they suspected it was some sort of tactical strike from the Decepticons, but as it turned out, the Decepticons seemed to have the same trouble. Squads of Autobots and Decepticons around the globe lost communication abilities with their superiors. Jazz had no idea where Galvatron had holed up; they hadn't seen him in over a decade. He knew for a fact that for the Autobots and humans the communication blocks were a mystery and a damning one at that.

He was certain that the _Hyperion_ had reached Earth at last—it had been seen in Earth's orbit, but other than that, the facts of the situation were all unknown. The number of mechs on the planet, the Decepticon end game, the status of the war as a whole—Jazz didn't know a fragging thing.

The battles kept coming, but they were getting stranger. Less mechs, more drones. Jazz suspected Ironhide was losing his mind because of that. They'd lost a good number of friends because of those things.

The temperature began to drop as the nuclear attacks in Asia began to affect the environment of the planet. Jazz found himself looking at the sky more and more, trying to memorize the blue, until one day, he realized that what was blue was becoming less noticeable than the orange and gray smog slowly, slowly coming closer on the horizon.

Somewhere along the line, chaos began to slip into human civilizations. There were riots and civil wars popping up everywhere they still had communication with. Jazz knew there was nothing to stop it now. He stood back, watching from a distance, and prayed that someone out there was watching out for the rest of them.

When a bloody and tired Mikaela looked up at him and asked him, "What now?" Jazz really didn't have an answer anymore.

**00000**

**November, 2024**

Jazz had stopped praying.

The drones kept coming, even though the Decepticons had stopped all together. Jazz watched the weakened American and Canadian forces finally crumble, until they were more teams of militia scattered from city to city than anything else. Mexico was leveled, as was most of the South American continent, pushing them further north, where only death and a more hazardous landscape awaited them.

The nuclear fallout from several haphazard and unplanned Decepticon strikes had left most of North America in shambles. The government had collapsed two years previous, leaving what remained of civilization under martial law.

Jazz wanted to pretend they still had a chance to strike back, that reinforcements would arrive if they could just hold out, but he couldn't.

The topic of fleeing the planet itself was rarely brought up, because only Ironhide and Jazz really had that option. It wasn't really an option, though. They would never leave the mission, not after everything they'd gone through. More than that, they wouldn't leave their friends, comrades in arms. 'Kaela bitterly joked with them that they lacked the fuel to get out of the atmosphere anyway.

He stopped looking at the sky for blue. It wasn't there anymore, anyway. The more he tried to look, the more he was forced to realize that, this was it.

_This is the home stretch, kiddies._

The last attack had been brutal. Drones had found their camp. Ironhide went down under a swarm. Jazz knew he went down fighting bolt and claw, though. A fitting end for a warrior. He would rather it have been a Decepticon, of course, but in recent days, Decepticons were rare sights indeed. Jazz sort of missed the fuckers.

He wasn't running from 'Cons as he ducked behind cars and pieces of mechs and machines. Drones, as usual, were their only company. The drones never tired, never ran out, and would always come while there were still lives to destroy. That day, after hours and hours of violence, Jazz found silence in the streets, the carnage they had left behind apparently sating the destructive needs of the unfeeling creatures.

Lennox had met the same fate as Ironhide that day, dying from the same attack. He had tried to go back for the Autobot, their camaraderie stronger than ever after two decades of fighting side by side. Jazz was grateful his wife and daughter had escaped to England all those years ago. He doubted they were alive, but he was glad Lennox could have the pretense of knowing they were somewhere better than the States.

It was still startling for Jazz, in the end, to be running now. He wasn't moving men or troops, acting as a guard, or on a special-ops mission.

He was _running away_ , because that was the only thing left he could do.

The army was gone. Autobots—he didn't think there were any, not anymore. He had been so busy fighting for survival that he had barely noticed the shift the world had gone through in only a few short years, from being at war, to a place where the survival of the fittest translated more appropriately into survival of the fastest.

So, he ran.

He found a collapsed store somewhere away from the main action. He only carried a small load in his grip, but he carried it with care. A stray jet screamed overhead, but it kept flying, either to a final fight, or safer skies. Jazz wished the pilot luck.

Sliding back against one of the few remaining walls, Jazz tried to take cover as best he could. He could still move, but he knew he couldn't transform.

Not yet.

Mikaela curled on her side, her good one, dark red pooling out of her mouth and other wounds, and Jazz wished he could offer more than dulled claws to cling to. She hung on all the same. The attack had been their worst yet. It would also be their last.

"Bad, huh?" she asked after a little while, smiling with blood-covered teeth, shuddering. Jazz tilted his head closer and he smiled back, because it was all he really could do.

"You'll be okay, 'Kaela," he said, lying, and knowing she knew it was a lie. Mikaela smiled anyway.

The skies were getting darker, even with the fires burning in the distant cityscape. Jazz looked up as he saw a few last jets try to get away from the city. A swarm of drones descended upon them like locusts and he watched the planes fall from the sky like shooting stars.

Drawing back against the broken wall, Jazz stared down at his hands, where, drip-by-drip, his last friend faded away.

Her green eyes trailed upwards and found his optics. "I'm so tired, Jazz," she whispered. Pain left her face, but the confusion and despair remained as she tried to figure out, for the last time, why this was happening.

Jazz brought her closer to his chest in the only gesture of care he could offer anyone.

"Me, too," he said. He shuttered his optics. "Rest now."

When the coast was clear, Jazz dug the last grave he would dig for a long time, on the bank of a river he didn't know the name of. He didn't say a thing to Primus. He just wished his friend luck, feeling only partially jealous that she got to escape this world long before Jazz would let himself follow in her footsteps.

On the horizon, drones sang their song of murder, the buzzing the only thing left to hear in the empty plains.

He drove onward down the abandoned roads—because, in the end, it was all he could do.

 

* * *

**End** _**Fifty Years Ago** _ **.**

_**Next** _ **: Vortex's experiences after joining the other survivors.**

  


* * *


	39. Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

His first days and nights with this odd group of survivors were… tense.

Vortex didn't blame any of them for being suspicious of him, for keeping their guard up. Just like he didn't blame himself for his own wariness. He had literally walked into the enemy's fold, truce or no truce. Yes, he saw the benefits of teaming up with them. Survival on Earth depended on obtaining fuel and defending against the drones. The Autobot scientist, Wheeljack, provided adequate fuel, and with five mechs, they definitely had a good defense.

But it hadn't been easy to "move in" either. None of the other mechs trusted him and he didn't expect them to. He didn't expect a whole slagging lot of things, actually. He did understand that if the group was willing to put up with Wildrider, they would put up with him as long as he played by their fragging rules. There weren't many rules, actually. The primary one was _Don't Hurt the Squishies_ , but he didn't want to be near them anyway.

Vortex went into recharge with weapons systems half-engaged. He told himself that was because of potential drone attacks. He knew the other mechs recharging across from him had their weapons systems on at the same level, for the same outward reasons. None of them had to mention it was really because they didn't trust one another, even in recharge, not to do something underhanded.

It took months to get used to recharging like that, and months more to stop. In fact it was only in the aftermath of a particularly nasty fight with the drones that he finally realized that the mechs would keep him around as long as he was useful in a fight (which was always). That night he stopped worrying about being knocked off in his recharge, but his automatic defense systems took a while to adjust to the change.

They did well together, he grudgingly admitted. He and Thundercracker provided the bulk of the offense with Wildrider backing them up, while the smaller Autobots provided a surprisingly good defense. There were always injuries, but nothing severe or life-threatening like Vortex was used to dealing with. It was a beneficial situation, he kept telling himself.

The only things that remained a constant threat were the humans. Not that they could damage him, nor did they actually do anything he could even interpret as negative. They were just there. And that was the problem. He couldn't go near them or even look at them in the beginning, or else he had a snarling Thundercracker on his aft or a suddenly protective Wheeljack looming too close for comfort. And for all their inherent frailty, the humans waved away the concern and continued to sit and walk near him – which was what bothered Vortex most. Inferior, arrogant little things.

Luckily, the two more experienced humans, Rachel and Danny, had a built in appreciation for how different Vortex was from the other mechs. Although they spoke with him and walked near him while travelling, the only humans who dared to rest close to him when quarters were cramped were the two that he had followed to the main group, Goddard and Barnaby.

They bothered Vortex the most. Vortex might have saved Barns from getting eaten, (although it wasn't until Wildrider had uploaded the correct language files that he realized what had really happened and he was mildly disgusted by the thanks the boy and his guardian insisted on giving him once they were all speaking the same language), but that didn't mean he wouldn't—couldn't—kill them. The mechs respected the threat he presented far better than the humans ever did.

Settling down to rest in a narrow clearing, large enough for the mechs to lay in, Vortex found himself next to the two humans in question. Barns was wise enough to go immediately to sleep, but Goddard had the nerve to turn to the slightly injured 'Con and start speaking.

"You okay, Vortex?" he asked, looking up at Vortex with a smile. A _smile_.

Vortex stared at the human, realizing that Onslaught would have loved to step on those organics, or use them for target practice. He couldn't do that now, though; the tall jet was watching him.

Instead, he shrugged, dismissing both the gesture and the implication of companionship.

When he looked up, he saw that Thundercracker was in recharge and Jazz was already on the hill with Wildrider for watch duty. Wheeljack was helping the other humans settle for sleep, not looking over at Vortex at all where he sat with Barns and Goddard.

Not one of them was watching him, alone with the squishies.

… _What?_

He tried not to think about it and eventually he drifted into recharge, still confused. It happened again, Barns and Goddard irrationally settling down to sleep near him within full smashing-distance, without a care. It made Vortex want to destroy that sense of safety, but he valued his life too much to risk it.

So, he ignored them and set all of his proximity sensors to alert to prevent him rolling over on them in his recharge.

Days later, in a fight, Vortex found himself getting his turbine slashed to ribbons. He would have lost half of his energon supply had Jazz not intervened, grabbing the offending drone and tearing it off to deal with it himself. Vortex recovered and when the drone was dead, Jazz turned back to him.

"You okay, 'Tex?" the Autobot asked quickly, but with honest concern.

Vortex had faltered for a moment, nodded stiffly and then got back to tearing drones out of the sky. He didn't say anything to Jazz and later the Autobot joked around and talked as if nothing happened. Vortex hadn't expected to be backed up during a fight, to be honest. He wasn't about to jump out in front of a raging drone to save an Autobot – at least not if he thought he would get more than a scrape out of it. But…

…Since when had he become "'Tex"?

And since when did Autobots defend Decepticons at the risk of their own lives?

It wasn't right. And it kept happening. _Autobot fools._

The first time Vortex grabbed Barns away from an incoming attack and used his own armor to protect them both, his processor nearly froze in surprise. It had been an instinctual reaction – one he hadn't been prepared for, at all. Vortex almost didn't know what to do, aside from dumping the kid and launching a counter attack on the drones.

Barns thanked him and Vortex accepted it, even if it all seemed crazy.

 **00000**

It hadn't taken him long to realize that the other mechs were total pushovers – even Thundercracker let the younglings do whatever they wanted half the time.

Wildrider was unhinged and clearly dangerous, but that never stopped the humans from bringing him willingly into jokes or conversations. He enjoyed himself just as much and it was always surprising to see both the humans and Wildrider walk away unscathed. It was even more shocking to see Wheeljack let this happen with only a cautious plea for them all to behave.

Earth was utterly confusing sometimes. Most times, really.

It was especially confusing when the humans dragged _him_ into things. He missed the early days when Danny and Rachel had been wary of him. Rachel got over it quickly and became the most aggravating one with her constant disregard for her own safety. But Danny? Danny was in a category all her own.

She was too happy. Too… too… Autobot. And not just the self-righteous, annoying kind. She was the _blissfully unaware of how the universe really works_ kind. The worst kind, in other words. After she felt confident enough that Vortex wasn't about to kill her outright, she proceeded to be _nice_ to him.

(In hindsight, Vortex realized she paled in comparison to Bluestreak. If only he had known then…)

And by being nice, she proved to be the most challenging human to tolerate. He could put up with the calm acquaintance of Goddard and Barns – they knew their boundaries. He kind of liked the playfully aggressive stance Rachel would take, always testing her boundaries but still respectful of the fact that he wasn't an Autobot. Danny? He would never, ever get used to her.

One day, while they rested for the humans' mid-day meal, Danny walked up to him, holding something. Vortex didn't care what she had to say or do, but he did look up when the teenager stopped short of the seated mech.

Oh, _Primus_ , she was smiling.

"Here!" Danny said, cheerfully. She held up a handful of pale yellow plants, which were partially browned on one side and seemed to be dusty as well. "You look sad today, Vortex."

Vortex tried to comprehend why the organic was offering him organic material for no real reason. "…What the frag are these?" he managed to get out. Behind him, he was fairly certain Wheeljack chuckled.

Danny grinned, oblivious. "Dandelions!" she exclaimed brightly.

"They're daisies," Barns corrected automatically. Danny only smiled, accepting the correction willingly. Sometimes, Vortex wondered if there was something wrong with Wheeljack's offspring. Goddard snorted.

"Uh…" was about as much as Vortex could come up with, because he honestly had no idea what kind of reply was even suitable for that. This organic was just as insane as Wildrider was. No wonder they got along so well.

"They're for you," Danny said, smiling even more. "I picked them."

Vortex stared down at the offending flowers in her hands, which she continued to hold up with seemingly endless patience. He glanced over at Wheeljack, who tilted his head encouragingly and was of no help at all. Vortex wished the mech would call off his youngling, but Danny remained an immovable (and untouchable) obstacle in front of him.

He could have ignored her. That was the sane thing to do. But Vortex knew that if he disrespected her, he would irritate the mechs. Dealing with the humans was generally simple. He just humored their inane whims every once in a while and they left him alone (as did their guardians).

But he didn't know what to do now. Behind her, Vortex saw Jazz motion at him. The helicopter homed in on the silver mech, suddenly feeling paranoid. He didn't know what to say, or do, but he felt like he _should_ know. He watched the Autobot, hoping the mech would have the sense to give him some kind of instructions on what to do next.

Jazz, surprisingly, understood his hesitation and mimed out simple directions: _take the flowers_. Vortex did that, carefully grasping the tiny stalks between two digits while desperately trying not to crush Danny's equally tiny hand. _Lift the flowers to your faceplates_. Vortex did that. _Now, take the flowers and put them in your mouth._

… _What the flying fuck?_ Vortex thought, sending Jazz a bewildered look.

Jazz nodded cheerfully. Vortex looked down at the flowers in his hands, missing the strained look Thundercracker sent Jazz. The humans were oblivious and Danny looked expectantly up at Vortex, so the helicopter decided to try Jazz's suggestion.

Almost instantly, he regretted it.

"What are you—DON'T _EAT_ THEM!" Danny yelled, frantic, as soon as the flowers actually touched his glossa.

Rachel looked up at Vortex with a vague look of disgust. "What the _fuck_ are you _doing_? !" she demanded.

Goddard howled with laughter and Barns dropped his head into his hands, laughing quietly.

Vortex seethed and chucked the flowers aside. "JAZZ!" he snarled. Dead flowers flew everywhere. Danny gazed at them, looking heartbroken.

The offending mech just laughed and Thundercracker let Vortex chase Jazz down, even though all Vortex did was give him a decent sized dent on the side of his helm. Wheeljack just huffed and shook his head. When Wildrider heard about the incident, he couldn't stop laughing, even after Vortex snarled threats at him.

Danny didn't offer him flowers after that and Vortex was immensely glad.

 **00000**

When Arcee joined their unit, it had been a positive thing for the Autobots and humans in their ranks. After all, the Autobots had been outnumbered since Vortex had joined, regardless of Thundercracker's redistribution of loyalties. Now, it was an equal three against three (Vortex refused to count the humans in on the matter, because they seemed to be suicidally set on remaining neutral).

Even so, there was something uniquely different about Arcee – something that set her far apart from the meek Wheeljack and the laid-back Jazz. Arcee was, for all intents and purposes, far more Decepticon-like in her behavior. Absolutely blunt, she held _nothing_ back about her dislike of him, Wildrider or Thundercracker. She scowled openly when she realized the Decepticons were actually part of their group and would stay with them. Vortex knew the femme would have rather left by herself than willingly remain with Decepticon teammates.

Fate moved against her and the rest of them, however. She was too injured to move on her own, and of course, Autobot sentimentality made it impossible for Jazz or Wheeljack to leave the femme behind. Thundercracker just went with Jazz's direction and Wildrider seemed overly keen on the fact that they had a femme with them. Vortex was looking forward to seeing Arcee's reaction to Wildrider's affection; he was certain he had never seen a femme tear a Gestalt mech in half, but in this case it was entirely possible.

Vortex expected aggression from the femme, even if he did his best not to talk to her at all. He had never liked femmes, especially not Autobot ones. They were great on the field, but he'd always found them to be loose cannons in close quarters or when they had nothing to do. Arcee might be injured and immobile, but she was certainly not "clawless."

One boring afternoon, as the humans got ready for their meal, Vortex found himself dragged into an argument between Wildrider and Rachel, debating who was more useful in a fight. It wasn't a serious argument, and after Danny joined in cheerfully, Vortex decided it was safe to make a series of arrogant comments about how dependent the humans were on the mechs.

Unfortunately, their guest was not used to the more Decepticon-like teasing Vortex commonly dished out to the humans, who he knew understood he wouldn't actually do anything to them (because Jazz and Thundercracker could easily rip his spark chamber out before he succeeded in stepping on more than one of the organics). Arcee lashed out verbally at both Wildrider and Vortex, snarling angrily about Decepticons and how they knew nothing but how to pick on the defenseless.

Vortex was more than ready to teach the femme just how _Decepticon_ he actually was—when, out of no where, Wheeljack stepped forward, energon rations in hand.

"Arcee, _please_ ," he began tersely, optics narrowed in irritation as he handed her a cube, "you are scaring the children with your aggressiveness. Vortex and Wildrider were just joking."

"But…!" Arcee began, stunned and angry.

She stopped arguing, however, and took her cube silently, giving Wildrider and Vortex suspicious dark looks all evening. Wildrider did his best to imitate human facial expressions of disrespect right back and Vortex just ignored them all.

He had never expected—or needed—support from any of them. He didn't need anything more from them than the basic loyalty he gave back. Anything else was unnecessary. If they were going to give away more than that, he couldn't stop them, nor did he feel it was necessary to want to.

Vortex didn't find it odd that he stopped noticing the glares from Arcee as time went on, but it was startling when he realized that she had stopped glaring at him entirely.

 **00000**

He didn't care about their lives. It was risky enough to defend them mechanically, when it only suited his interests or there was no risk of his own life being in danger from helping out. Vortex didn't watch out for the Autobots, or the other ex-Decepticons and especially not the humans, any more than he had his old teammates. It just wasn't his thing to give a slag about _expendable_ creatures.

That's what he kept telling himself, of course. The others must have believed it too, because they never said anything about him picking and choosing his defensive actions with cold indifference.

Vortex was left to challenge that sentiment himself when the darkest of days fell upon their group. When Goddard died, it had shocked them all. To think—of all creatures—a mere organic was the reason Vortex had survived an unwinnable battle… Onslaught would never have let him live it down. Somehow, Goddard's distraction had been enough to lead away a monster swarm of drones, saving the majority, but leaving him to die.

They didn't retrieve the body. Jazz claimed it would be too risky, but Vortex thought that none of them were brave enough to admit that there wouldn't be anything left to bury, anyway.

So, they buried nothing and struggled through almost three weeks of choking, mind-numbing grief.

The children were the worst. They were getting older, but Vortex learned it was typical for grieving adults to cry and wail in times of pain, just as children did for cuts and bruises. It was a natural reaction, even if it did seem overly demonstrative. Vortex wanted to shut them up the moment the tears started. However, after experiencing the same events that traumatized them and having to endure the fallout of it all—he couldn't bring himself to complain.

Barnaby was the worst, at least visibly. For as long as Vortex had known any of them—and he had indeed known Barns the longest—he had never seen the child not smile. He was an Autobot at heart, or at least he would have been as a mech. But this was an organic, a youngling at best.

The boy had also seen Goddard as a creator of sorts. Vortex didn't know what it was like to have one, or to lose one. He knew what it was like to lose his Gestalt, though, and from what he knew of their unit, he knew a Gestalt and organic family units were very similar. With that understanding, Vortex couldn't stop himself from feeling subdued and quiet as he and the others listened to Barns' tears and Danny's murmurs of comfort late into the nights following Goddard's death.

Since when had he cared for the lives, the emotions of others? It was an alien feeling, an unnatural one.

Before he could catch himself, Vortex slowed to walk alongside the sullen human. The boy didn't look up, so the mech said, "Barns."

He said it bluntly, but quietly, trying not to alert the others to look. Vortex had a feeling Jazz would be listening in regardless, but there wasn't much Vortex could do about that.

"Yes, Vortex?" Barns asked, polite and direct as always. When he looked upwards at the helicopter, his red-rimmed eyes were deceptively calm.

Vortex would never be good with words, but he knew Barns would take the worst and make it mean well. It was what the boy did and was probably the only reason the human gazed up at the ex-Decepticon with innocent care.

"It gets better," Vortex offered, reassuring himself that he didn't mean anything more than telling the boy the truth.

Somehow, it did get better.

Pausing only for a few moments, Barns didn't smile, but his eyes seemed softer. "Thank you," he said, meaning it. Vortex had no idea why he would, but he didn't question it.

 **00000**

He would never be anything more than an ally to them. He expected nothing less, nor more. Even if he did sleep alongside them, and refuel and fight, Vortex still bore the purple sigil on his chest. He knew from the sly, but undoubtedly real glares sent by Arcee and from the hesitant way Wheeljack sometimes had when dealing with Vortex alone, that the others were still very aware of his true nature.

Strangely enough, that wasn't a problem. Not for some people.

The humans never flinched in his presence, well, other than one time when he verbally tore Bluestreak a new one. He had shouted so loudly, when he glanced at the organics after Jazz barked a sharp command in Cybertronian to effectively shut the hell up, Vortex saw he had caused all four humans to gaze up at him with shocked expressions. That didn't last long, though; they forgot (or forgave) all too easily.

Then again, as soon as he really made Bluestreak upset, Kass stood up and proceeded to yell right back at him and he backed off without much thought, knowing it was a lost cause to argue with a woman in what Jazz noted as "Mother Hen Mode."

…Why he never thought it was odd that he didn't just step on the irate human never really crossed his mind. Strangely.

He knew there were simpler reasons for why the humans tolerated him more than the mechs did. Simply, he was stronger than they were, and in a world full of organic and inorganic dangers, it always paid to have large allies to handle smaller foes.

Human dangers were just as prevalent (though in decline with the general quantity of their species as a whole) as drones were. One day, their group met up a band of humans Barns labeled as "unfriendly." They didn't speak the same language, and even though Kass could translate a decent amount of their speech, something got lost in translation, because the unfamiliar humans decided to make a grab for their humans' supplies.

The confrontation was short lived. Not just because Rachel floored one of the taller males with a sucker punch to the face, or because Barns did something similar to another male who got too close to Danny. The real reason the attacking humans took off running was because the mechs, who had stood by quietly as the conversations were had and failed, decidedly stepped forward to show the new humans exactly who the four organics were actually allied with.

Vortex didn't do much; he _refused_ to do much, for something so trivial. He just settled for looming obviously in the background, even as Jazz took several steps forward in front of their humans and the gigantic Thundercracker and Wheeljack followed suit. Wildrider made a racket, between his engines roaring and his insane snarling of curses and threats, even after the offending organics ran off.

By the time they had made their way to a new area, all of them were on edge. Vortex settled down, planning on doing nothing but recharging. He ended up listening to Rachel, who seemed deeply perturbed over the incident.

"Fuckers," Rachel was seething. She was as jumpy as a rabbit, Kass noted, but Vortex could only see a dedication to living in the fierce-looking child. "Seriously, what the hell were they thinking?"

"Scavengers," Vortex supplied, casting another scan around the camp, just in case they were visited again. That was only because he knew Jazz wouldn't tolerate him letting the attacking humans hurt their allied humans. That was the only reason.

"I mean, _Christ_ ," Rachel continued aimlessly. Humans could chatter for hours about nothing important. Vortex only half-listened. "I'm seriously glad you guys are around sometimes."

Of _course_ the humans would be glad for the mechs being there. Even if Vortex knew _he_ wouldn't be putting his life really on the line for one of them, he knew the others in the group (even Wildrider) would stick up for them. The humans knew that, too. "Hn."

"I mean it," the human continued. "I never thought being friends with aliens would be a help, but I take it back, all of it."

Something about that comment stuck out to Vortex. It wasn't her admitted xenophobia, because that, that he was used to. "Friends?" he repeated out loud, before he could process it completely.

Rachel snorted, peeling off her boots. "Yeah. Comrade? Associate?" she said, rolling her organic optics. "What, you never made buddies in space?"

"No," Vortex answered, honest. Soldiers didn't have friends. They didn't have comrades. They had teammates. That was what this group was supposed to be—what they were supposed to mean to him.

Oddly enough, "teammates" didn't feel like it really said enough. Vortex had no idea why not.

"Well, its kind of an epidemic on earth." The child—more like a woman now than anything else—actually smirked, tilting her head strangely to the side. It wasn't a bad look for her. "Suck it up."

She spoke as freely—as _arrogantly_ —to him as the other humans did. The mechs spoke just as openly to him, as if they didn't think he would whip around and kill them for grating on his nerves.

And he never did.

He learned to stop asking why, though. It never helped. What he knew should have happened between them all rarely ever did, and every day seemed to be filled with things like this, where everything Vortex knew as fact was constantly being thrown out to make room for the illogical sense that, yes, it was _safe_ here.

Shutting his visor down, Vortex fell into recharge expecting to wake up again the next day and to see familiar faces instead of strangers—or no one at all.

…It was not a bad feeling in the least.

 

* * *

 _**Expectations** _ **end.**

 _**Next** _ **: In the continuation of** _**Last Hope** _ **, the space bridge is under construction. Rachel and Vortex have a talk.**


	40. Fortitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

Rachel stood outside the blast doors, her eyes closed, and she leaned against the rusting metal. She could feel the vibrations of mechs walking, pacing in the Lab. Kass was soldering something in the far corner and Barns was directing her and Danny as they helped adjust the various wires.

She stood there, invisible for the time being, and just listened.

"We can't go to Cybertron."

She heard the hydraulics of mech legs turning. "I know, Jazz." The voice was so weary.

"There's… there's no where else b'sides Earth, 'Jack… the kids… they couldn't survive. The radiation'd kill them, if the atmosphere didn' first, not t'mention the fact that they'd starve t'death wit' no food. _We_ can't even survive there, 'Jack."

"I know."

"Then—then where? Where are we gonna go?" There was a small crash as some datapads fell to the floor. Jazz cursed. "America's nuked, Australia and Asia are too, England's gone, man. All the petroleum reserves in South America—Primus, they were under attack last I heard an' that was decades ago."

"There's always Africa," she heard Wheeljack suggest again, calm.

"Africa? Are you _nuts_?" She heard Jazz tapping his claws nervously on a table. "Assumin' yer model of th'atmospheric conditions keeps up bein' right, as it has fer the past coupl'a decades, this nuclear winter should end in another thirty years, 'Jack. _If_ th' humans are still alive then, _if_ we can find food fer them down there, what th' frag are we gonna do about nuclear summer? They'll be cooked _alive_ down there when that comes."

"There would have been minimal threats to the drones from African nations. They attacked the larger, more militaristically centralized nations the most. The continent would not have suffered nuclear attacks." Wheeljack sighed. "There could still be people, _large_ communities of humans down there, Jazz! Asia Minor and the Middle East have been blocked by the drones and the nuclear bomb sites, but with the space bridge—!"

"We'd be flyin' blind right into an area we lost communication wit' at th' start of th' fraggin' war. We have no idea what it's like there! Th' drones could be all over! An' th' vegetation an' wildlife're totally different there. What if we can't feed ourselves? What if we can't feed th'kids?"

Rachel flinched when she heard Wheeljack slam his hands onto the table. The sound of the blowtorch stopped. "It's a huge risk, Jazz, but what else are we going to do?" Wheeljack demanded, sounding aggravated. "The drones are still coming, even though we kill more and more and there is less and less reason for them to exist. There are no more camps. No more humans here in Europe. We are going to _die_ if we stay here. The _humans_ will die if we stay here. You know this!"

There was silence. Rachel opened her eyes, exhaling quietly.

She heard Jazz move away, his claws scraping the tabletop, but he said nothing. The blowtorch turned back on. Silently, Rachel pushed away from the door and walked back down the now well-lit corridor, her mind stumbling over countless new facts and hopes and concerns.

They had a way out.

They… _had a way out_.

Out of this… this _hell_ , out of Europe.

But where would they get out _to_?

That was the real question, the only one that was really causing any concerns. For the most part, the group was celebrating. Although in the beginning they had traveled widely throughout western Europe, in the last few years they had found their range to be much more limited. Lack of edible vegetation had restricted them to staying within range of major cities, which still had canned goods and supplies for the humans. Rachel knew that Wheeljack suspected the weather was milder in other regions of the world, but the drones were very heavily populated in the Middle East due to the oil reserves so getting to Africa was impossible except over the water. Arcee had told them long ago that going east to Asia was impossible due to containment breaches on Russian and Chinese nuclear plants. As a group they had no way of crossing massive bodies of water safely, and America was Ground Zero anyhow—there would be no reason to travel to a place that would be even more dangerous. Australia's uranium deposits had made it a huge target in the beginning of the war, so it was unlikely that they would be better off there…

The only real place to go was south… to Africa. Even the strangely pessimistic Jazz and the normally pessimistic Vortex would agree with that eventually. It was strangely poetic for them to return there of all places, she thought wistfully, considering humanity's origins.

No one really knew what Africa had to offer them, however. Wheeljack theorized that the lack of centralized military (unlike the doomed West) had left the African continent clear of any nuclear attacks or large invasions. In theory, it could actually have been a better haven for humanity, due to its secluded and already third world status, lack of economic and technical development and few resources. It should not have been a huge beacon for drones, unlike the European cities.

But none of them knew for sure. And according to 'Jack, this would be a one-way trip. Jazz was right; they would, essentially, be walking blind into a new environment that might or might not be worse or better than where they already were. The consequences were terrifying to fathom.

The drones were creeping closer every day, however. Over the last few years, the increased sightings of drones had not escaped the group's attention. Camps were becoming fewer and ruins were becoming more common…

Rachel stopped short of entering the main cavern where the others were. All of them were working day and night now, to figure out the mysteries of the machines. Only Wheeljack could decipher the scientific codes, but Barns was helping as much as he could. Kass, Bluestreak and Thundercracker were working diligently on repairing as much of the corroded systems as possible. The others all tried to help as they were able, piecing together what could very well be their only and last hope to live in peace.

One of the largest issues they faced was power. The wind turbines created the power to run the diagnostics and the overall Lab… but the machine? Barns had laughed when Wheeljack told him about the turbines, but grew severe when he realized Wheeljack was serious.

"How are we going to power this, Wheeljack?" the Frenchman asked, incredulous of Wheeljack's confidence. He gestured wildly in frustration. "Wind power alone is not going to move us across space and time. The amount of power this will take—megawatts. _Gigawatts_! I—I don't even know if we have a word for such amount of power! We are moving against the laws of latitude, across the equator, the curve of the Earth—if we do not get this right, we will kill ourselves attempting to teleport."

Wheeljack stood there in silence. Rachel thought he was just trying to come up with an organized retort; he was very flustered as of late, but that was kind of expected.

Neither she, nor any of the others, expected that look of muted horror to return to his optics.

"The machine is not designed to be powered by wind," he said quietly. "It already has power sources on standby. We just need to connect them together and turn the machine on."

"What?" Barns asked, so startled by the quiet reply that he turned around completely, fixing Wheeljack with a stunned look. "What… what did they use for the power source?"

"There were eight scientists who devised the machine. Eight who built it," Wheeljack replied after a great length of time. He looked ill, shaken. "We have found five unknown bodies, either in here or the dormitories. Perceptor died apart from them. We don't know where the remaining two have gone, perhaps through the bridge." He paused. "The drones… did not kill them. They didn't kill _any_ of them."

Rachel stared, not knowing what to expect from him next. Everything about his demeanor told her something was off, but a glance at the others told her no one else had any idea what was bothering him. Wheeljack took a moment to compose himself.

"There are five power sources for the machine," he finally said. "They used… their sparks." The scientist looked away, gazing at _nothing_. "Their sparks power the machine."

The silence that followed echoed with everyone's mutual horror. Arcee gaped at Wheeljack while even Vortex had the decency to look speechless.

" _What_?" breathed Kass, horrified. Bluestreak crouched behind her, optics huge.

"The amount of power required to run the machine would have been on the order of an Exawatt—a billion Gigawatts. The only possible power source available on Earth would have been spark ener—" Wheeljack began, almost rambling.

"Are you _SERIOUS_?" Barns interrupted him, gripping his head. He stumbled back, made clumsy by shock and revulsion. " _They_ —oh, my God. Oh, my God." Rachel closed her eyes, feeling sick.

Wheeljack shook his helm. "Perceptor knew this would work," he said, looking away in grim acceptance. "Maybe it did, for the last two mechs, whoever they were. The remainder sacrificed their sparks so that this project would succeed."

The dormitory, as they had called the caved in section that Wildrider and Vortex had unburied, with Thundercracker's help, had revealed two bodies laying upon stone berths as if sleeping.

Now they knew that it wasn't a dormitory. It was a crypt.

So, the sparks were in the Lab, stored and ready. The power of five sparks would make the space bridge work, Wheeljack told them confidently. It was too late to try to save their lives, but not too late to use the machine. Rachel didn't want to know how they did it. She didn't even want to think about it. The drones had never been there after all, it seemed. These mechs had killed themselves for… what? All of the survivors could only hope that it was for a successful machine. For a second chance.

In the cavern, the fire was dying, but the humans were all in Lab and Arcee and Wildrider didn't need the warmth as they recharged. Thundercracker was also recharging, having done guard duty the previous night and then helped with some heavy lifting that day. They didn't have to worry about energy reserves thanks to the mini-power plant in the Lab, Rachel mused, but none of them were at optimal health, not in this world.

She wandered to the entrance of the cave and sat down on the freezing rock. The sky had cleared somewhat and the snow had stopped. The world was wrapped in a blanket of death, a choking one, but it was a beautiful sight from so high up in the mountains. She gazed out, seeing far into the distance. Beyond the other mountain peaks, beyond the white abyss of winter—

Did they really have a home to find?

This had to work. Rachel buried her face into her hands, shuddering.

They had no other chance, no other hope. None of them were blind to the fact that if this kept up, their vagabond lifestyle—they would die. She did not want to have to bury another friend, nor leave her remaining companions with the chore of burying her. The environment and the drones were winning and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the progression.

They had to get out.

Looking up, Rachel gazed into the dark winter sky and could only hope that the skies of the south would be just a little clearer.

It was their only hope.

 **0000**

He found her by the entrance to the caves. He had seen her leaving the Lab, distressed. Vortex walked slowly, though he knew she was aware of his presence. She didn't flinch when he walked up behind her and stood there, waiting.

Rachel tilted her head to the side, but didn't turn around to look at him. "Hello, Vortex," she said calmly. Her voice was hoarse; she was upset.

Vortex shifted uneasily, but walked up beside her. "Hi." He paused, fishing for the right words. It was amazing what a few years had done to improve his interaction skills. "Are you alright?"

Rachel pursed her lips and she glared out at nothing. Emotion brewed below her eyes. Vortex waited for an explosive answer, but he wasn't that surprised when she sighed and sat back—after all, he wasn't the only one to have changed in the last few years. But he continued to wait for her to say more. All of them were uptight, but there was more to Rachel's tension than just her usual feelings. There was frustration and… fear.

"I'm scared," she whispered. Vortex sat down slowly, meeting her eyes easily. She had no fear looking at _him_ , but there was fear etched into her face. Fear of something greater than an ex-Decepticon.

Vortex didn't know how to reply to that, however. "…We all are," he muttered. He looked out over the cliff's edge. It was the same sight every day.

A little laugh came from the human. "Wheeljack is trying not to be. For us," she said, grinning. It was a sad grin. She rubbed her legs, a nervous twitch. "He's terrified."

There was no denying that. There was no denying anything now. Vortex waited until she faced him again and he inclined his head, trying to appear less nervous than he actually was. "If we die… we die together, right?" he prompted. "It's not that scary."

It was fragging terrifying, death. But death alone was scarier. Death together?

It was expected. It was normal. It was… better than the alternative, going on alone, without the people they had all grown to know as friends and perhaps something more.

Rachel nodded silently and stared out at the world she would never inherit as it had been only half a century before. Vortex stared out as well, at Galvatron's legacy. At his own.

Regret did nothing. Vortex watched the wind blow a faux-shower of snow overhead.

He heard Rachel move and then saw her sitting against one of the rocky walls that made up the entrance. She still gazed out beyond the cliff's edge, her eyes not really seeing anything, but Vortex knew she wanted to talk. He waited; listening was one of the few things he could offer the human. He was pretty sure it was the only thing she wanted from him, anyway.

"Vortex."

The helicopter froze at the tone of Rachel's voice, but calmly answered. "Yes?"

Rachel glanced at him, calm as well, but her eyes were blazing. "We need to talk," she said quietly.

Fear of a different kind rose in his spark. Vortex looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. "…Oh."

He didn't want to talk about this. He hadn't… he had never reached a real conclusion with Thundercracker. The whole conversation about him and his _affections_ had tapered off over the last year. The feelings remained, but Vortex had begun to feel that it would be unnecessary to actually do anything. Rachel was human, he was not; it wasn't fair and yet… what could anyone do about it? Apparently, Rachel knew about the situation now. It wasn't really that surprising. It _had_ been years since the whole drama first unfolded, and secrets were hard to keep in this group.

Sitting there, Vortex waited anxiously. He didn't want her to continue speaking, but his spark was traitorous. He stayed.

Rachel inhaled deeply. "I don't want this to be some kind of last minute, death-bed type of thing, you know?" she said, startling him. He looked down and saw her staring up at him, intensely. She spoke with conviction, but it was still awkward. "I… I know that you like me." She paused, swallowing. "It's okay."

Okay. _Okay_. That could mean anything. Vortex forced himself to remain sitting there, even though every instinct told him to run. What sort of sick reality was this, that a mere organic could make him—make him feel _fear_? Trepidation, even?

He despised himself for it all, this weakness. He could not bring himself to despise the woman speaking to him, however. She sat silently, waiting for a response. Vortex did too, because he had no idea what he could say, or if he should say anything at all.

The time to run away from this was long gone, however.

Vortex turned and looked at her. She stared back. "Do you find me repulsive?" he asked quietly.

Rachel shrugged effortlessly. "I find you _fine_ ," she replied, sounding like she wanted to sound indifferent, but there was a wobble in her voice. "You're my friend. My… family. Everyone here… is my family."

The helicopter watched her, but all he saw was a small smile. He didn't deserve a smile, large or small. "…You aren't afraid?" he asked in the same quiet voice. He expected fear. That was what he deserved, what he had created.

"Of what?" Rachel asked, surprised.

Vortex looked away, trying to ground his spark, but he kept feeling like he was floating away. "Me. Who I am. What I am. What I've… done." He paused, his vocalizer glitching over the next words. "My… feelings. For you."

Rachel laughed abruptly. "I'm only afraid of losing the people I love or my own life." She sighed, closing her eyes. "You're not an alien. You're not a Decepticon." Opening them, she pinned the mech with her gaze unintentionally. "You're… Vortex. Just… Vortex."

"I'm a monster." Or at least he had been, once, before the world was turned upside down.

"And you're over-exaggerating your status," Rachel replied shortly. She paused and then smiled. It was a sad smile. "I am a horrible person, you know that?"

Vortex flinched back. "What?" he asked, visor narrowing. The vehement tone of his words surprised him. "No, you're—"

Rachel cut him off swiftly. "I've considered leaving," she said, making him pause. "All of you. During a fight. I don't want it to, but it crosses my mind." She smiled tightly, looking pained. "I don't want to die. I don't want anyone to die, but I always… manage one last… selfish wish. After everything you've given me, all of you… I still consider betraying you?"

She dropped her head onto her knees, laughing at herself. "Ha… look at you. The _Decepticon_. You call yourself a _monster_. Hah. The only monstrous thing I've ever seen you do is yell at Bluestreak or pick fights with Wildrider. You're… not..." She hesitated before looking distressed. "If anyone is a monster here, it's me. Or at least my wicked heart."

"You're a survivor," Vortex replied firmly, irritated for some reason. She wasn't any of those things. She was no monster, of that he was very sure. "We all are. I don't think that any one of us hasn't considered leaving for their own sake at some point."

"It sure feels like it's only me," Rachel said, sighing heavily. She let her head drop back against the rock, but met his optics with another sad smile and sadder eyes. "But I guess we're all our own worst critic, right?"

Vortex stared, letting her words weigh heavily in his processor, his spark fumbling over his feelings and the feelings that her commentary brought out. He knew what she was getting at, but that didn't stop the doubt, the fears. He could kill her with just an accidental touch. Even if she didn't mind, even if she dared to reciprocate—what could they have? The despair he felt didn't seem natural, but it was still there.

The human stood up and Vortex watched with growing wariness as she stiffly walked over to him. The snow was picking up again, but she didn't seem to mind. He waited as she stopped in front of him, a strange look on her face.

Rachel stood there and motioned with her gloved hand. Vortex leaned down, knowing to level his head at hers, their eyes and optics meeting. She stared at him, fearless, her eyes blazing through the mist her breath created.

"You always expect the worst. So do I. But no matter what happens, with this space bridge… never doubt that love is possible, in the worst of times or places," she said quietly, but to Vortex, the words fell upon him like an avalanche.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his helm. Vortex just stared past her frame. Where the lips touched, he thought he felt his plating burn.

"Now is not a good time for any of us to be experimenting with relationships," Rachel murmured, pulling away. She met his gaze, so close to her now, smiling faintly. "It'll give us time to think on this, no matter what happens."

Vortex tried to remember how to think. "There's a chance…we might not make it through the machine," he said, spark aching at the mere thought of everything being ripped away, their hopes, their dreams…

"I know," she replied softly. She sighed. "But have faith." Rachel laughed, and Vortex knew it was at herself again, out of the irony. "I… I know it's hard. But… maybe, things will turn out okay. And then… things… could change for everyone." Gloved hands found his face again and Rachel smiled at him with all the gentleness he had grown to expect from the organic. "Including us."

 _Us_. Another strong, strong word. Vortex didn't even know what to do with such a word.

"…You're… certain?" he asked, fearful of the answer, but now… he dared to let hope reignite within his spark.

Rachel tilted her head, grinning, the gesture lighting up the dark mountain landscape. "I'm pretty damn sure," she said in her usual voice, demonstrating a confidence that Vortex had learned to expect and cherish.

Vortex stared down at her, not sure what to do next. They had so much lying in front of them that seemed impossible to overcome. There was a chance now, that maybe—maybe they could escape the early goodbyes they had all been expecting to make. Maybe they could get to a place where there were strong guarantees of living to see the next morning, together.

Maybe… the two of them could begin something new, something that might not last forever, but would mean _everything_ for every second that it did.

"I'm glad to have met you. All of you," Rachel said quietly. "After everything with my mother, I used to think love was something extraneous, something replaceable." She grinned up at him. "I don't think that. Not anymore."

"Whatever happens…" he began, hesitating as she settled down again, then gladly resigning himself to let her rest beside him, the lamb with the lion.

"Happens," Rachel finished, brightly. She leaned against his leg, sighing, but she forced the positive back into her voice, probably for him alone. "And we'll see it through. It's all we can do, 'Tex."

That was what he admired about her the most, Vortex realized; the sheer strength, the fortitude, the power of faith that she, and all the other humans, had when faced with the impossible.

It was something he would endeavor to imitate in the coming trials they would all face.

Whatever fate had planned for them—Vortex knew they would be able to handle it.

Until the moment they stood at the edge of their next great action, Vortex was content to sit there and dream of what could be waiting at the other end of the world.

 

  


* * *

  


**End** _**Fortitude** _ **, to be continued in** _**Believe.** _

_**Next**_ **:** **Danny and Wildrider discover teamwork! Wheeljack is not amused.**

  


* * *

  


**  
**

_**Fallout**_ **Science Fun Fact**!  
If you tried to teleport directly from north to south like they're planning to, you'd hit the ground so hard, you'd pancake on the other side. Physics is a bitch, isn't it?


	41. Speed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 **Northern Germany**

Danny was having a great day. She had gotten Kass to use the last bit of the cornmeal to make corncakes, which were always good on a foggy day. They were traveling through a thick forest, which was a little damp, but it reminded her of a scene from one of her favorite stories so Danny didn't mind it terribly.

Of course, the drones had to ruin everything. They were good at that.

The nineteen year old wasn't unused to running for her life or helping to defend the lives of her family. She hated violence, which said something, because she hated hating things even more. But a burnt out drone was better than the corpse of a fellow teammate, as Barns would say wisely, and Danny had to agree. She took to the blaster with far greater ease than she was comfortable admitting to, but it got the job done.

"I think that's almost all of them!" Jazz shouted across the trees that sparsely separated them. There wasn't much room to move about for the mechs; Rachel hadn't been wearing her flight suit, anyway, so they didn't have flight to work with.

Danny usually stuck close to Wheeljack and Barns during the fight, providing back-up for the others, but she'd drifted closer to Wildrider during the fight. He was always one of the fiercest fighters. Danny winced as he brought down a drone with his bare hands, after his deadly fingers found the weak spot at the base of the drone's body. It shrieked and then died; Wildrider flung it away without much care. She noticed in passing that there were only a couple more drones left.

At that point during a fight, Danny generally expected things to wind down. Vortex or Wildrider would take out the last drone and then Wheeljack would check everyone's injuries while Jazz cracked a few jokes. Par for the course, as Jazz would say.

She didn't expect one of the last drones to fly right past Vortex's defenses and collide with Wildrider. It was smoking and already damaged, so it wasn't difficult for Wildrider to punch it straight into the ground. However, as he did that, the ground beneath his feet caved, sending him sprawling backwards down the incline behind him.

Gasping, Danny flew forward, ignoring her own safety. "Wildrider!" she screamed. Heart racing, Danny skidded down the slope after him, trying to use the uprooted trees and mud to keep her from free-falling as he had done. "Hold on!"

The sound of metal smashing and Wildrider's cursing stopped before she even got far enough to see him down in the ravine below. It wasn't like she could do much to help, but she wasn't going to let Wildrider end up alone and potentially injured. He was her friend, and more than that, he had stuck by her through impossible fights, too. She owed him her life as he owed his to her and the others.

The incline was steep and drastic. Danny found herself sliding down it mostly, using the protruding boulders and tree trunks as stops. The mud was also challenging to climb down carefully on; she was going to have to get a thorough bath that night for sure.

"'Rider!" she called out. The red mech was rolling over onto his chestplates so he could stand up. Mechs always dreaded getting knocked completely over; they were kind of like turtles, Kass had said one day. Danny walked up to Wildrider, worried. "You okay?"

"Yes…" Wildrider grunted. He managed to get to his knees and stared with bleary-looking red optics up at the hill they had fallen/slid down. "Ughhh. That vas unpleasant."

Turning around, Danny saw what he meant. "Yikes… that was a long drop." She was lucky (and small) enough to be able to take her time getting down. Wildrider was pretty dinged up—he must have hit all the rocks on the way down.

Wildrider looked up at the hill and made a thinking sound. "Ve have to meet others on lower side," he said, looking around them. He pointed toward a lesser embankment. "That vay."

Danny considered the hill in question and frowned. It was less thick with debris and tall grass, but it was still steeper than she thought a walking mech could handle. Even if he could, that hill was steeper than she wanted to have to climb at this point. "That hill's still kinda steep for you, isn't it?" she asked out loud.

Mechs could handle a lot of terrain, but even Wildrider knew his limits, with his bulky metal legs that wouldn't allow for walking uphill with all those trees. "I shall drive then," he said, confidently. "On winding path there, yes?"

It wasn't much better having him drive through the muddy trail, but it was far better than attempting to climb up the first hill. Gathering her wits, Danny nodded in agreement. "Why don't you call TC on the radio real quick to let him know we're headed that way—?" she asked as Wildrider transformed into a car.

Danny wasn't big on superstitions; that was more Kass and Bluestreak's area. But she wasn't going to deny that as she said those words, the hairs on her arms stood straight up. Almost on instinct, she turned around, fear replacing the calmness in her chest automatically.

Slithering down the incline, dodging tree branches and other debris, was a silver plated drone. It moved like water—a gushing, unstoppable wave. Danny's gasp strangled in her throat and behind her, Wildrider's engine roared. Turning, Danny tried to get to Wildrider's side, where he had popped open his driver's side door. They had to get out of there, now—!

"Get in, get in, get in—oh _SLAG_ ," Wildrider shouted, causing her to stumble.

Danny screamed when, from their left, the drone slammed into Wildrider, both closing the door and shattering the glass. Wildrider snarled and appeared to attempt to transform, but the drone decided to latch onto his side and begin to rip into the mech, slicing metal as it went.

"GET IN!" Wildrider commanded, helpless to fend the drone off in that condition. Danny finally got to her feet, but froze.

By the time she ran around to the other side, the drone would have either cut through Wildrider or Danny herself. So, with only seconds to spare, Danny did the next best thing (at least in her mind):

She jumped onto the hood of the car.

"DRIVE! JUST DRIVE!" she shrieked, scrambling to get traction on the sleek metal, not exactly sure how she planned to do this.

And Wildrider _drove_.

Wildrider was arrogant about a lot of things, but he definitely highlighted his speed capabilities the most. The only Transformer faster than him in their group was Arcee, and that was only on open road. Wildrider insisted he had inherited his old leader's title of "King of the Road" since he was the last Stunticon standing and he flaunted that title whenever someone challenged his driving skills.

Danny was now a believer.

They tore up that small road like nothing Danny had ever experienced before. A few times she had ridden inside Wheeljack prior to meeting the others, and there were always the times when bad weather forced the humans to take shelter in the transformed mechs. This? This wasn't driving. This was _flying on wheels_.

"Holy shit!" she yelled, trying to keep her body on the car. Her hands had found Wildrider's windshield wipers, but that was a poor seatbelt. She was sliding all over the metal hood as they soared up the muddy path.

Wildrider shouted something back, probably telling her to hang on, but his voice got lost in the roar of his engine and the shriek of the drone that was very much still active and on their tail. They were moving very fast, faster than Danny had ever gone before, but the drone wasn't giving up.

Danny tried to look behind her at the line of trees above them. If they could get to the others, they could fight back—

But they weren't going to get to the group before the drone got to them. Danny, bracing her knees against the windshield, heard the drone screeching and slashing through trees and debris. When she peered over the edge of Wildrider's roof, she could see the bright red, demonic eye peering back hungrily.

 _Ils sont les ouvriers du Démon_ , Barns had told her. She believed it.

"—should stop!" she heard Wildrider shout. Danny shook her head, heart racing.

"No!" she shouted back. "Keep going! If we stop, it'll get us!"

Wildrider's engine revved in reply. Danny glared back at the drone, which was getting far too close for comfort. She may have hated violence, but she was not going to let those things hurt her family and she certainly wasn't going to roll over and die either.

One hand firmly on the windshield wiper to keep herself from being flung backwards over Wildrider's roof, Danny reached for the grenades strapped to her belt and took one firmly in her other hand. She prayed Wildrider would drive steadily.

"Creek!" Wildrider suddenly yelled. Danny braced herself as he increased speed to clear the body of water. The drone was only a precious few yards behind them.

Danny felt the car hit something under its wheels and then the sense of falling told her they were literally taking the jump over the creek. At that moment, the drone lunged and Danny reared back and hurled the grenade right at its ugly face.

The specially designed bomb imbedded itself in the metal exo-structure of the drone easily and a second later, Danny had to duck as the drone vanished in a short, fiery explosion.

Wildrider hit the other side of the creek hard; Danny choked back a scream when she was physically flung up into the air without much warning. She came back down hard, smashing her chin onto the glass, but the pain was overridden by the adrenaline rush. For a second, all she could hear was the engine beneath her, the tires tearing up the earth below, and the rushing of blood in her ears.

And then, it struck her as Wildrider continued to drive wildly up the path until they reached a flatter plane, a field.

Danny tried to remember to breathe. "…Holy crap…"

Did they really just survive that?

"Nice shot, squishy!" Wildrider crowed. He laughed and gunned it as they tore through the field.

Well. Danny hugged the windshield and couldn't help the hysterical grin that appeared on her face.

That was _fun_.

 **0000**

Thundercracker was concerned that Danny and Wildrider had disappeared after that drone attack. Vortex insisted he was picking up Wildrider's signal and they were heading back toward their location however, so the worry wasn't too bad for the others. Wheeljack was still frantic and demanded they hurry to meet their missing friends.

When they finally caught sight of Wildrider on radar, they could also hear his engine not too far in the distance. Thundercracker's frown deepened when he caught sight of Wildrider, transformed, driving at an insane speed up the uneven dirt road toward them. His optics caught a flash of blue on the mech and if his optics weren't malfunctioning—

"Is that Danny…?" Rachel started to ask, noticing it too. She blanched backwards, looking bewildered. "What the heck? !"

Danny was on _top_ of the hood of the transformed mech. Wheeljack made a strangled sound of alarm, but luckily for everyone, Wildrider slid to a safe stop, Danny only slightly rocking forward.

"There you are!" Wheeljack exclaimed, concerned, as everyone moved closer to investigate.

Danny slid off the car, her hair (which was typically wild anyway) looking like she had just gone flying with the window down on the aircraft, her chin streaming blood and lifted her hands into the air with a triumphant, "WHOOO!"

And then she fell over. Wildrider transformed, looking equally as dizzy, and sat back with a loud clank away from her. His look of dazed astonishment was not encouraging.

"Danny!" Wheeljack exclaimed, walking over quickly. "You are injured! What happened to —?"

" _HOLY SHIT_!" Danny suddenly shouted. She sat up and gave Wildrider a look that Thundercracker could only identify as elated insanity. "THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING _EVER_!"

Wildrider grinned madly. "LET'S DO IT AGAIN!" he cried.

Danny stood up, ecstatic. "YEAH!"

"What are you talking about? !" Wheeljack demanded, now very alarmed. He crouched and started scanning Danny for other injuries. "What happened?"

"We fell down the hill and then a drone attacked and then I had to jump on his hood and we drove really fast," Danny chattered. "I threw a grenade and it hit the drone when it was following us and then we jumped a creek!" Wildrider reached over with a closed fist and Danny reached out to bump it with her own.

Thundercracker suddenly felt like he was missing something important.

Vortex peered down at the woman, startled. "What the slag is _wrong_ with her?" he asked.

"Adrenaline," Barns and Rachel answered automatically. Kass sighed heavily, shaking her head and kneeling down to look at the cut on Danny's chin.

Slowly, an intelligent story came out: Danny hadn't been able to get into the transformed Wildrider during the attack, so she had simply gotten on top of him so they could drive out of the way. The drone followed them, so Danny was forced to attack it for Wildrider instead. Apparently, it had been a crazy ride.

What was even more apparent was the fact that Danny and Wildrider _had had the time of their lives_.

Wheeljack was unamused.

"It was so cool, 'Jack!" Danny said, between taking bites of dinner. "I felt like one of you!"

"That was entirely reckless and dangerous, Danielle," Wheeljack chided.

The human huffed. "I _know_ , but we're okay now."

"Ve kicked ass and took names, yes?" Wildrider added, grinning madly. Danny laughed and agreed.

"Primus help me… they're enablers for each other!" Wheeljack lamented.

Kass sipped her hot drink with an unimpressed stare. "I was going to say they were both bloody insane, but I guess that works too," she said.

Unsurprisingly, not everyone thought their story was insane. Rachel was downright pleased by the idea of mech-human combat combinations, something they had all automatically disregarded as possible because, well, they weren't the same size. Arcee was probably the only Transformer there that could have made it work safely, but she flat-out refused the idea of being transformed during a fight, even with a gun-toting human on top of her.

"…So, do you think we could try that out with a helicopter?" Rachel asked, grinning as she looked over at Vortex.

The arrogant look of agreement in Vortex's visor died when he saw the look that Jazz and Thundercracker sent him, even as Rachel, Danny and Wildrider began to make grandiose plans of somehow tag-teaming between a sports car, flight suit and a helicopter. Somehow, it didn't feel right being more afraid of his teammates than the drones, Thundercracker thought absently, feeling more and more disturbed.

"What if we tried that with two mechs?" Bluestreak asked, excited.

Wheeljack promptly reached out and flicked the side of his head so suddenly the conversation died and Thundercracker was left praying quite seriously that by the time they had to fight the drones again, his less-than-sane teammates would find something less destructive to spend their time on.

Some days, Thundercracker was very impressed they actually made it through breakfast. He didn't know if that was a miracle or something to lament.

"At least they haven't thought of tryin' t' ride the damn things," Jazz offered cheekily.

Thundercracker gave him a furious glare that radiated _Keep Your Mouth Shut,_ making Jazz laugh so hard that he ran into a tree and had to lie to the curious humans about what was so funny. Thundercracker just hung his helm in his hands.

Yes… survival was indeed a _miracle_.

 

 **End** _**Speed** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: The concept of "touch" is far different for mechs than it is for humans…**

 


	42. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Western Europe  
2045 AD_

When they first met Wheeljack, Jazz thought they had struck gold, and not only for the energon converter. He was just as leery as Thundercracker was about attracting trouble with a larger group and it wasn't like Wheeljack was a small mech. He had worried that there might be problems between the new Autobot and the ex-Decepticon in their group, but thankfully, both were mature enough to refrain from taunting each other or lashing out. Wheeljack was a nice mech, bringing good conversation and intellect to their small group, all for the better.

However, the mech brought with him something else that Jazz saw potential in: a tiny little girl named Danny.

Wheeljack's youngling was nothing like their youngling. Rachel was pale, trim and aggressive. Danny was dark, scrawny and probably the first genuinely cheerful face Jazz had seen in a long time. She was tinier than Rachel was, even though she was more than a year older, and after getting over the shock of meeting more of Wheeljack's kind, she warmed up to the new strangers in her life easily. Rachel was far more reluctant to reach out to the newcomers, but things were improving.

Jazz loved having the new youngling there, if only for Rachel's sake. Rachel had finally gotten used to the aliens around her after a lifetime of only unfamiliar humans for company. Now, she would even have human company her own age that would be around all the time, as an ally and hopefully a friend. Rachel had never had friends; she didn't have to tell Jazz that. He just knew. And that was why he couldn't help but feel delighted every time he saw the two femmes giggling over something only children would find enjoyable. This was how her life _should_ have been.

Wheeljack and Thundercracker both agreed with him, that they should encourage the companionship to grow. Humans were sociable creatures, Wheeljack reminded them; they _needed_ their own kind, even if they weren't friends or allies. They needed physical touch and the sight of their own species to really be able to grow into functioning adults.

Rachel and Danny, despite their differences, got along rather well. Rachel made the effort to be calmer and nicer around the more sensitive Danny, and Danny learned to be slower when approaching the other girl and to respect her personal space. They played games around the campfire and they shared stories (or at least Rachel told Danny stories of other humans, which always fascinated the sheltered girl). When climbing difficult terrain, they'd willingly reach out to help the other, which was wonderful, considering that the mechs' sizes hindered the amount of physical help they could offer the younglings.

They got along so well that it came as a great surprise to Jazz that "getting along" did not translate instantly into "friendship." Rather, he learned that his interpretation of human relationships was, well, wrong.

It was a cold and miserable afternoon. The sun was setting, or at least, it should have been setting past the dense clouds and smog in the sky. Jazz wished the kids could see a true sunset someday, but they didn't seem to be bothered by the normal gray. In order for her to stay dry and avoid the wet ground, Wheeljack was carrying Danny in his hands, something she enjoyed since it gave her a chance to see more of the countryside. Thundercracker carried Rachel in a similar way. Both girls were talking cheerfully about something regardless of the distance between them and Jazz didn't pay them much attention.

Setting up camp was as mundane as always and Jazz helped get the kids fresh water. And then it started to rain. Very hard. The girls had just finished their meal so they all abandoned the campfire and scrambled to get under cover; for the girls this generally was inside one of the mechs. Wheeljack's alt-mode was the best for giving them that sort of cover, with an expansive back that they could spread out in. Wheeljack transformed as Danny made a beeline for him, and Jazz and Thundercracker did the same. As his transformation completed itself, Jazz settled on four wheels and looked back out at the others. Danny was shutting the doors on Wheeljack and Rachel—

A small hand rapped sharply on the drivers' side door and he saw his own charge standing there, supplies bundled in her arms, looking irritated.

"What are you doing?"Jazz asked, bewildered.

"Let me in!"she snapped, jumping up and down, getting soaked.

Jazz didn't see any other option than to do just that. Rachel jumped inside once his door popped open and she crawled into the seat, dumping her gear next to her. As the human collected herself and dried her hair with a spare shirt, Jazz watched her, feeling a bit confused.

"Why are you sittin' in me?" he asked, causing her to look up in surprise. Wheeljack had the bigger interior. She knew that. She had _seen_ Danny climb in, so she must have known it was okay.

"What?" Rachel looked up sharply. A mixture of suspicion and hurt crossed her face. "… Do you want me out?" she asked, hesitant, looking for rejection.

"No! I mean…" Jazz stumbled mentally. He decided it wasn't worth trying to make it seem like he didn't want her around. She was too sensitive for that. "Never mind. Settle in, kiddo. I'll put th' heat on a bit."

He couldn't afford to leave the heat on all evening, since he hadn't had the chance to refuel, but it was enough. Rachel curled up in the seat, still small enough that she fit comfortably. Jazz had often wished he had a larger mass so he could let her spread out, but… he had kind of expected that situation to be fixed, courtesy of Wheeljack's presence.

Interesting.

"Ya can trust 'Jack, ya know," Jazz said, trying to get to the bottom of why she didn't want to sleep closer to her friend. "He wouldn't mind ya over there with him."

Rachel, on the other hand, looked mighty disinterested. "I know. He's nice." She kicked out her blanket and curled up with it, clearly ready to sleep.

This was strange. "…He's bigger, too," Jazz ventured. "Aren't ya uncomfortable?" He really wasn't that big, at least not to sleep in. TC was worse, of course, but still.

"No," Rachel said, not concerned at all. "I can curl up. Smaller space conserves heat."

There was a pause. Jazz stared at her quizzically, knowing she couldn't tell he was confused without seeing his face.

"…Danny's over there, though," he finally said, knowing he was being annoying but needing an answer.

Rachel opened a beady eye, half-glaring at his radio. "Yeah?" she drawled, now very unimpressed.

Oh, for Primus' sake. "Why not just snuggle up in the other car?" he demanded, confused.

That got Rachel to lift her head up, staring at him with bewildered eyes. " _Snuggle_?" she repeated, as if that were a repulsive word. She scoffed, and gave him an insulted glare. "Jazz, number one, don't call it that. Number two, I don't even _know_ her. It's not that cold."

It was chilly, damp and perfect snuggling weather. He had seen it enough back at military refugee camps. "Yes, it's pretty cold, kiddo," he challenged. He couldn't fathom why Rachel was suddenly shy over something that was beneficial to her. "What does knowin' her have t' do with anythin'?"

"I'm not going to sleep next to someone that I don't know if I can trust yet!" Rachel blurted, looking very irritated now.

Jazz resisted the urge to feel irritated himself. "You trust her enough t' walk next t' her an' play," he said, trying to understand. "And you'll sleep next t' her when we camp in th' open."

"But not enough to expose my back to her when I'm sleeping pretty much alone with her," Rachel shot back, sitting up properly. She glared at the radio, the place she apparently had decided where his face was tonight. " _Trust_ me, Jazz, you can't just barrel into trusting strangers, and both she and Wheeljack are strangers still."

 _Strangers_ … that was a pretty strong word. They had been traveling together for almost two months now! Jazz liked Wheeljack and Danny both. They were good people. Then again… Rachel was not very trusting by default. She needed time to adjust.

"I know that…" Jazz began, considering. He knew Rachel wasn't interested in being best friends with new faces, but something wasn't right about this. She was all about survival, after all. Surely the added warmth of another human would have been positive. From what Jazz remembered of humans and touch, they loved it. They _needed_ it. "Huh. I thought you guys liked snugglin'."

The disgust on Rachel's face made him laugh. "Ugh. Only with close friends or loved ones. Unless it's like a dire situation," the girl said, trying to get under her blanket nest again.

"Why?"

"B-because… it's improper," Rachel managed to say, stumbling audibly. "And probably unsafe."

" _Improper_?" Jazz repeated, scoffing. Rachel was suspicious, yes; socially shy, no way. She was always very open about how she felt and in her dealings with others, at least once she knew they weren't going to backstab her. "Oh, come on. Yer not shy."

"Jazz, you…" the human began, before changing her mind. She frowned over at the radio and sighed quietly. "It's _different_ for us. We don't just cop a feel for no damn reason."

"Wait, whaaat?" Jazz exclaimed. "It's just lyin' t'gether fer warmth!" He wasn't even trying for an interface joke!

"And it's touching," Rachel snapped. "Really close."

The mech paused and then grimaced internally. "…Primus," he complained. "Why do you guys have t' make everythin' so sexual?" Thundercracker would have probably found this either horrifying or just another example of how humans were really primal sometimes.

Apparently, Jazz was wrong to say that. "S-sexual?" Rachel sputtered, sitting upright so fast she almost hit her head on his low roof. She sent the dashboard a scathing look and Jazz realized he had misspoken. " _Fuck off_ , dude. It's not sexual. It's just—too _close_!"

Jazz wished he had hands at the moment, because he wanted to grip his faceplates in distress. "Yer confusin' me, Rach," he whined. Since when was his sparkling this confusing? She used to be so easy to understand, at least with her physical concerns.

"Stupid robot!" Rachel shouted, as if this was all Jazz's fault. She fixed him with a firm, challenging look as if she was daring him to say something else unintelligent. " _Look_. There's romantic touch and not-romantic touch and then there's keeping your hands to yourself for both cases, because you don't know each other, and its rude. Not to mention creepy!"

With that, she kicked her blanket out around her again and curled up on his seat, ready for sleep. Jazz watched her, considering what he had just been told, and listened to the rain pour around them and against his exterior.

"I think I get it," he said, awkward. "Sorta."

Human touch had complicated levels of Okay-Touch and Not-Okay Touch. Society told them which was okay and which wasn't. The fact that Rachel was still adhering to those kinds of rules out in the middle of nowhere was bizarre, but really, Jazz wasn't that surprised anymore. Humans liked their rules. It kept them… well, human, in the face of falling short of that in the middle of a world that was no longer their own.

Rachel snorted, her eyes closed and yellow strands falling over her face and over the gray seat. "Danny is nice, but I don't know her and she doesn't know me," she said bluntly, even in that peaceful position. "It's just weird to assume its okay to be that close while sleeping. It's not sexual, its just human nature to want personal space."

"To do opposite of what your body says is okay?" Jazz asked, bemused.

Rachel lifted her hand in a familiar one-finger salute. "Welcome to Earth, asshat."

Jazz rumbled, amused, even though he wasn't entirely sure he understood. That was okay, though.

"I _think_ I get it now," he said gently. "You guys are really sensitive. So… you don't like gettin' overcharged with strangers. It's socially improper." That was as much as he could come up with logically.

Exhaling heavily, Rachel waved her hand. "Ugh. Sure. Let's go with that." She did her best to be civil about it now. "Danny's nice though. I just don't think it's… comfortable for us to be that close so soon. We have boundaries."

"Someday, though, right?" Jazz asked, hopeful. He didn't want to think that Rachel and Danny wouldn't ever get to that stage of trust. Danny would probably accept it now, but she hadn't been raised with the same rules in mind as Rachel had.

"Sure," Rachel said, sleep coloring her tone. "I'm gonna out-grow your midget form eventually."

Jazz smiled to himself as she drifted off, noticing something. She didn't seem to mind sleeping close to Jazz or Thundercracker. He knew it had bothered her in the beginning, but clearly not now.

…Yeah, he understood it a bit better now. He was glad it wasn't going to be permanent. He wanted his charge to have a friend dear enough to be able to rest safely with one another. Someday.

Spark content, Jazz settled down and, with a quiet eye on his adopted child, watched for dangers in the stormy night around them.

 **0000**

 _France  
2046 AD_

Yet another day, and always more injuries to patch up. Wheeljack would never complain about having to do field repairs for his friends—if they were bleeding, that meant they were still _alive_. Still, Wheeljack was always holding back a heavy (and purposely imitated) sigh when he looked over mechanical limbs in need of patching up. He wasn't a medic and never would be one. He might have had more knowledge of what to do than the others, but that never boosted his confidence in his skills.

He had no other option but to do his best, as his new-found friends proved to be constantly testing his medical skills. The first "patient" he had had was Thundercracker after a drone attack. That had been an interesting twist for the scientist, who had only ever done repairs on himself in the last two decades. To repair a Decepticon… well, Wheeljack never thought it would come to that! Regardless, Thundercracker had been a decent patient, and the next time there was a fight and Jazz needed repairs, the Autobot had proven to be the worse patient to look after instead.

When Wildrider arrived, Wheeljack was much more confident in approaching an injured 'Con, but it was still intimidating, considering how crazy Wildrider appeared to be. The red-and-black mech wasn't too bad, no worse than Jazz, in the end. He never stopped twitching, which was annoying for the "medic" to deal with, but Wheeljack got used to it over time.

He never once thought about how strange it was that Wildrider always dampened his electromagnetic fields whenever Wheeljack approached. That was rendering the mech with less observational power over what Wheeljack was doing to his frame, but it could have just been reflex or to keep Wildrider from twitching even more if he could feel Wheeljack's own electromagnetic field touching his own. Wheeljack thought it was strangely prudent for the otherwise unstable mech to think of that.

That feeling changed when Vortex arrived in their midst. The helicopter was almost the exact opposite of Jazz and Wildrider both. Vortex was sullen, defensive and almost aggressive whenever another mech trailed too close into his personal space. Wheeljack hadn't even thought of what it'd be like if that mech had gotten injured.

But the day came anyway, where Vortex was effectively grounded, and Wheeljack was left feeling the need to pretend to be the medic he wasn't. A drone had made quick, messy work on Vortex's back, where his main rotary system was. Without that system operational, Vortex wouldn't be able to fly. It had just been healed not that long ago, Wheeljack realized, due to Vortex's self-repairs kicking in from the fresher energon he was consuming lately.

This wasn't a matter of broken propellers, however. Energon had gushed out dangerously from the wound, mixing with sparks, until finally self-repair had stemmed most of the bleeding. They had made a shoddy camp inside a collection of caves along the shore of a nearby lake. Wheeljack had watched silently as Vortex struggled to sit far back against the rocky cavern, shuddering and gears whining in effort. Normally, Wheeljack would have given the anti-social mech space, but even his untrained eye could see the helicopter needed help.

Retrieving his soldering tools, Wheeljack prepared himself for the complicated struggle of getting a Decepticon to trust him enough with repairs. Thundercracker was already mostly "docile" by the time Wheeljack met him and Wildrider was just strange. Vortex probably didn't trust any of them, even after months of traveling together.

Vortex had been curled to the side, watching the humans tend to their own injuries around the fire, but the mech tensed up immediately when Wheeljack approached cautiously, making sure Vortex noticed first. The red visor almost stopped Wheeljack in his tracks, but he had gotten used to the glare.

"Vortex, you're injured," Wheeljack began, holding the soldering tool up for more emphasis. "Would you let me help you?"

Vortex said nothing. Words weren't needed, not when the mech could so easily show his aggression and dislike by glaring and curling away from Wheeljack as if the Autobot had walked up with a plasma riffle in hand instead of a soldering gun.

"Vortex, let me help you," Wheeljack said again, trying to be calm. He made a motion as if to grab Vortex's shoulder in order to see the injury on his back.

The mech jerked away, seething quietly. "No," he grunted, trying to move back further from the Autobot.

Wheeljack frowned behind his mask and tried to reach out again, _slowly_ , with his hand. He wasn't sure what else to do except try again. He couldn't let Vortex bleed out and die, not when he had the chance to help here.

"Here, why don't you—," he tried to say.

Vortex reared back away from his hand, snarling loudly, the sound bouncing all over the cave. Wheeljack flinched and drew back as the helicopter truly started to look like he was ready to lash out at the larger mech. Wheeljack wasn't sure if Vortex could actually harm anyone in his current state, but the Decepticon _was_ intimidating.

Even still, nothing happened. Vortex just slid further away down the surface of the rock, the metal scraping loudly. Wheeljack stood exactly where he was, now very unsure of what to do next. Their alliance, between Autobot and Decepticon survivors, was stronger than Wheeljack had ever dreamt possible, but it was always in danger of being broken. Wheeljack did not want to be the one to end up ruining the fragile nature of their group. Too much depended on them not fighting like animals.

"Don't touch me," Vortex ground out, both in anger and pain. The movement had agitated his wounds and a streak of energon hissed against the rock as it slid down the crevices.

Wheeljack held his hands up, with the soldering gun gripped tightly in one, in a peace-keeping gesture. "Alright," he said carefully. "My apologies."

Vortex's visor narrowed and his entire frame vibrated with tense aggression. Wheeljack didn't know what to do. Behind him, the humans went back to talking, after the brief shouting. Wheeljack didn't hear any of the other mechs move, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that anyway. He didn't want a fight.

This was confusing, from all angles. "You _know_ I wouldn't hurt you, Vortex," Wheeljack tried to reason. "We've been traveling together for months." Surely that must have earned some trust to be given to their group's own medic.

Vortex would have none of reason. "I don't want you _near_ me, Autobot," Vortex said, trying to curl up further, as if Wheeljack's mere presence was the problem. " _Back off_."

"Wildrider allows me to do his repairs," Wheeljack continued, though 'allow' was a poor word to use. Wildrider didn't mind an Autobot doing the repairs; he was just a terrible patient.

"Wildrider is a fool!" Vortex snapped, spasming as another wave of pain rolled over him apparently.

Wheeljack tried to think of what the problem was. Vortex wasn't an idiot. He didn't mind the Autobots being there, not that terribly at least. He had never reacted negatively to help extended by one on the battlefield. Wheeljack tried to think of what he could do, or stop doing, to get the mech to trust him. Wildrider had been almost too easy compared to this—

Strangely enough, when he thought about Wildrider, things started to click. Wheeljack stared down at Vortex, considering a factor he hadn't thought of before.

"It's my electromagnetic field, isn't it?" he asked, causing Vortex to look up in surprise. Wheeljack tilted his head, monitoring how his own field was almost interlacing with Vortex's own. It was almost as if… Vortex was leaning specifically away from _that_ , not the mech. "You can pick that up."

Vortex said nothing. He just glared at Wheeljack with an intense look of displeasure. Wheeljack sighed.

"You are sensitive to touch, then, aren't you?" the scientist asked. He didn't bother to wait for a reply that wasn't going to come. He gestured at Vortex's injury. "I would imagine your rotary areas especially." No wonder that mech was so fidgety. Flight-enabled mechs were _terribly_ jumpy when it came to their flying appendages.

"Go away," Vortex spat. Pain was laced in his tone, however.

Wheeljack smiled sympathetically behind his mask. "I suspect the heightened sensory field to be a remnant of your gestalt team, then?" he continued, knowing this had to be true. No wonder… it really did make sense. For both Vortex and Wildrider.

Gathering himself up, Vortex feebly said, "Go away, Autobot."

"I will," Wheeljack promised, though only after he saw to the injuries. "But do know I didn't mean anything offensive, Vortex."

The helicopter looked away, shivering. " _Hn_."

Wheeljack knew next to nothing on gestalt technology, especially when it came to the sensory specs they all seemed to have. It was intense compared to normal mech interfaces, from what Wheeljack knew. Physical touch meant little to most Cybertronians, if they shut off their sense of it when injured or otherwise. Gestalts did not have that luxury. _All_ of their senses were interconnected, considering how they combined into one being and they needed to tell where the others were at all times. Their energy fields must have been more sensitive as well. To Vortex's strained systems, Wheeljack's Autobot signature must have been an immediate danger sign, no matter what reasonable relationship they had in reality.

 _Fascinating_.

Crouching, Wheeljack did his best not to loom over the injured mech. Vortex glanced at him with the same intense glare, but Wheeljack tilted his head, hoping his shining earfins appeared friendly enough to show he meant no harm.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing at Vortex's back.

It must have taken the other mech a lot of courage to even think of saying yes. "Don't wanna die," he grunted, feigning disinterest, even though his entire frame was tenser than before. "Go ahead."

Wheeljack moved carefully anyway, even as Vortex turned to the side more to allow the scientist room to inspect the injury. It did need attention, so Wheeljack was glad he was allowed to help.

"I need my fields up in order to judge your injuries," he explained quietly, noticing how the mech jumped even before Wheeljack touched his back. "You can turn your sensors off, however. Wildrider does that."

Vortex's shoulders never stopped hunching. There was a long pause before finally, "…Fine."

The fields went slowly, almost unnoticeably, down around Vortex. Wheeljack smiled to himself, pleased.

"You're a much better patient than Jazz is," Wheeljack offered pleasantly.

"Hngh." Vortex offlined his visor and Wheeljack chuckled, getting to work.

Perhaps playing doctor wasn't too difficult—as long as he understood his patients, of course.

 **0000**

 _Germany  
2052_

Kass saw it coming from a mile away. Vortex, despite his outward crusty appearance, was a total sap, at least when it came to certain people. If it had been Bluestreak, they would have been putting the Autobot back together piece by piece all afternoon. If it had been Barns, well, it certainly wouldn't have turned out the way it had, but that was because both mech and man had a nice, respectful friendship. Heck, if it had been Kass (unlikely considering Bluestreak was right there to help her instead), there wouldn't have been an issue either.

No. Vortex's first mistake was to offer to pick Rachel up as they crossed a disgusting and muddy swamp in the middle of Germany. It went downhill from there.

Everyone could see how awkward it was. Thundercracker normally carried Rachel, but the blond human had asked Vortex to pick her up first and it wasn't like Vortex had ever had a problem handling a human before, so nothing was said. Kass didn't think much of it at the time either.

The first problem was Rachel's size. They were no longer children and despite the fact that the mechs were generally a few stories taller than the humans… their hands weren't all that big compared to a full-sized human. Kass herself had problems balancing in Bluestreak's grip and Vortex's hands weren't that much larger than the gunner's. Rachel sat peacefully in Vortex's hands, legs spilling over the sides and she could use only one hand to really hold onto his thumb. At first, that was okay.

But as the day progressed, Kass could see from between trees and mech shoulder's that things were starting to get… awkward. Staying seated in a metal robot hand wasn't easily and it got uncomfortable fast. Rachel never minded the heights like Kass did, but she was far more likely to shift around to get comfortable.

A casual, innocent slip of her hand against his propeller blades on his arm was the first event. Kass only heard about it afterwards. It was the slight mechanical whine that alerted Kass to the situation at all. Throughout the whole ordeal Vortex never looked at Rachel once, keeping his bright red visor forward, but the mech-nurse-in-training Kass could see the tension literally rolling over his frame.

It got worse. After an hour of walking, even as she exchanged conversation with Arcee and Barns about something completely unrelated, Rachel managed to rest her hand on exposed underwire on Vortex's wrist. She seemed completely oblivious to how Vortex almost tripped into a tree.

Just before midday, it began to worsen and others noticed. Kass held her tongue, even though it started to get rather humorous. By that point, Rachel had decided she wanted to stand, to get more feeling back into her legs.

When Rachel stood up, she almost slipped. Vortex instinctually brought his hand to his chest to keep her from falling twenty feet to the ground. He almost dropped her anyway when she fell against his chestplates, just over his spark.

Kass couldn't help it; she giggled. A quick cough covered it, though. Vortex looked ready to die, or well, something more pleasant. Thundercracker looked murderous, but didn't intervene, mostly because Rachel calmly righted herself and resumed standing.

She kept her hand idly on his chest, of course. Innocently.

Kass knew better. It was days like these that Kass and the rest of them were fully reminded who "raised" this unholy hell child. Jazz would have been beaming with pride had it not been dangerous to make Vortex realize they were all aware of his plight. Every "trip" and "accidental" touch was planned and precise. Rachel was straight-faced through the whole thing, even as she essentially copped feels on a robot.

Oh, Lord, how strange their world was now. Kass was surprised she wasn't as scandalized as she would have been years ago. She supposed it was just the exposure to the even more bizarre things she had endured since she joined this group. Every day was either awkward or just plain terrifying in some way.

By the end of the trip at their evening camp, Kass had given Rachel a lukewarm glare as the humans sat around the newly built fire. Rachel looked unsurprisingly smug as she waggled her hands in front of the flames.

"You are a terrible person. Just so you know," Kass stated bluntly, knowing the mechs were distracted by energon. Not that they'd understand her comment, of course.

Rachel glanced over at her best friend. "Whaaat?" the blond asked, smiling innocently.

"I never should have told you about their sensitive spots," Danny replied, shaking her head. She was smiling, however, after Kass had explained what had happened.

"Hey, it wasn't like I was _trying_ to grope him!" Rachel laughed, shaking her head. "It just happened." Kass wasn't sure if she believed her, but she was certain the American was enjoying the aftermath at the very least.

Barns, upon realizing they were in fact going to discuss what had happened, buried his face into his pallet, ignoring his can of beans entirely. " _Merde_ … please, I don't want to listen to this now," he said into the blanket.

The fire crackled as the other humans fell silent. Kass caught Rachel's eyes again as the younger woman started to smirk. Kass almost wanted to stop her, but… well, they hadn't had much to laugh over due to the weather. Besides, Barns always found the time to tease them. Vengeance was sweet.

"You know…" Rachel began calmly, stretching as she sat back against her bag. She cast a subtle glance at the unknowing Barns. "Vortex isn't _that_ bad looking. For an alien robot and all. The blades are kinda neat."

 _Desired effect achieved._ "Oh, my God, stop," Barns moaned, gripping the blanket over his head even more. He had no stomach for contemplation of mech and human interactions. He wouldn't shun them if they ever did get together, but he wasn't interested in discussing it.

Kass carefully hid her grin behind a cup of tea.

"And even though he's an asshole at times… hey, _I_ am, too!" Rachel said, now bright and cheerful. She looked at Danny and Kass, who were trying not to laugh, and pretended to be elated. "There's no need to worry about us reproducing more jerks either. Nice!"

"Please stop," Barns pleaded.

There was a short silence.

Kass waited and then she saw Rachel grin suggestively. "…I wonder if dude robots have a—?"

Well, that was enough for Barns. " _RACHEL_. I WILL _KILL_ YOU," the Frenchman snarled, giving her a loathing glare. Rachel burst out laughing and immediately took off, Barns close behind and Danny howling with laughter on the ground. Kass watched them run, sighing heavily. Sometimes, she had to agree that humans were strange.

 **0000**

 _Europe  
2048 AD_

She wasn't sure what was worse—being immobile while surrounded by potential enemies… or the fact that none of her supposed allies present there seemed to realize how awful the first fact was.

Arcee was not foolish enough to try to walk away from help when she honestly needed it. She couldn't move. She had barely been able to get to the protection of the boulders before their team of mechs and humans found her. She never dreamed it possible to find Autobots anywhere on Earth now. She hadn't seen a living one in… too long. But onlining to the sight of a fellow officer and a scientist she had once guarded was only pleasant until she looked over and saw his companions.

Decepticons. _Decepticons_. She thought her processors had been malfunctioning, but they were really there. A Seeker, two gestalt members—and a group of humans who seemed incapable of recognizing how dangerous it was that they were standing right next to those awful mechs. She wanted to demand a rational excuse from Jazz or Wheeljack, one that made sense, for why they let those monsters walk around them with such ease.

She was more preoccupied with surviving the next few solar cycles, however. Her damaged limb and other internal malfunctions were worse than she had suspected. Wheeljack, Primus bless him, did his best to help her recover. He was too kind, but Arcee thanked him deeply for putting out the resources and time to help her. Strangers weren't worth much in a world like this, so the fact he tried as hard as he did for her, despite her initial aggression, was comforting.

What was less comforting was the fact she had to recover amongst _Decepticons_. Arcee tried to keep a calm front, especially after her aggressive reactions to the unwelcomed mechs seemed to annoy the humans, but it was hard. All she could feel whenever she was near one of the Decepticon was the feeling of fight or flight. She couldn't stand being near them, but she didn't have a choice. She needed the assistance from Wheeljack to get back on her wheels. Only then could she even think of leaving.

The humans were comforting sights, for all of their strangeness. They were innocent, most of them, and they made her smile despite the pain of her injury or the discomfort of the 'Cons walking about. Barnaby was especially kind and apparently sympathetic to her problem of being around her enemies. He always dragged Wildrider away, that insufferable mech, or distracted Danny or Rachel, who always critiqued her dislike of any of the Decepticons.

Slowly, as the days turned into weeks, Arcee felt better and better. Soon, she could roll away from the group on her own and not have to spend nights lying awake in fear of being killed during recharge by anyone else in her own camp.

She was feeling better—at least physically.

It started up just after Wheeljack handled the initial repairs to her leg struts. Arcee couldn't remember the last time something like that had affected her. Probably the last time someone touched her exterior—which was a long time ago. She had gone longer without exterior contact in the past, but on Earth, decades were like vorns. Wheeljack was professional and Arcee, after watching him once, knew he meant nothing but care when he took her damaged parts to solder or mend.

But that triggered it—Arcee just knew. It had been the same at her last few duty stations. The last time she'd felt it had been when her last remaining teammate had gotten too close during combat. He had never known and Arcee doubted that Wheeljack realized why Arcee cringed whenever he or another mech got too close now.

Her spark ached. Not with pain. No… with agony of a different kind.

When Elita-1 had been killed, it had been a devastating blow. It was more than a plasma shot to the spark. It was worse than having her spark ripped out of her. It was… unmentionable agony.

And then Chromia. All in the same day. Moments apart.

Arcee thought she had died. Drowning on nothing. Her spark was on fire, and yet, it seemed to be missing. Like a black hole had formed where a connection— _their connection_ —had once been.

It was Hell, as she learned to call it. Her sisters were dead and she lived on, despite the odds.

She lived on with _this_. This gaping hole in her spark… this pain.

Whenever another mech's spark got too close the connection would rear to life. Then she would feel it. Their touch made it worse. When they were that close to her, her spark would reach out through the connection, seeking out it's missing parts… but it would find nothing. At moments like that nothing felt right – the world looked strange, felt strange. Those moments had come and gone before, but now her injuries forced her to accept when the mechs offered to carry her. She spent the whole of each solar cycle trying to subdue her reaction to them. She knew it wasn't any of the others' fault now, not even the Decepticons, damn them. Gestalt and sibling bonds weren't meant to be severed, not like that.

She would have to live with it until she someday joined her sisters in the Well of Sparks. That was something she had to accept.

Metal creaking and the sense of another mech approaching her location made Arcee flinch. She looked up, even though she already knew it wasn't Wheeljack or Jazz. Wildrider grinned down at her, his faceplate monstrously contorted by the dim lighting from the dying fire behind them. The humans were sleeping and it was supposed to be just Wildrider and Jazz on duty. Unfortunately, Jazz seemed inclined to ignore Wildrider's tendencies to get closer to her.

" _Pryvet_ , femme," he said, all too pleasantly. He swaggered to the side, both showing how harmless he was and yet how much larger he was than her. _Mechs_.

"Don't talk to me," she seethed. She couldn't stand his presence. All she could sense on her read-outs was _Decepticon_ and _Imminent Threat Detected_. Those senses were too ingrained to turn off. How the other Autobots managed, she couldn't fathom.

She curled away on herself, trying to appear as untouchable as possible. She couldn't move far on her own and being around any of the mechs right now, with her spark shrieking, would be too much. Wildrider didn't seem to care about her visible discomfort. He sat down loudly in front of her, grinning all the while. He knew she couldn't move away. He relished in her shuddering form; Decepticons always did.

Arcee lifted her optics fearlessly. She wasn't going to let a Decepticon intimidate her. She was a survivor, a _soldier_. She had outlived her sisters against nature, perhaps, but she wasn't going to roll over and die, and she was certainly not going to let an unstable Decepticon walk all over her—

"Hurts, yes?"

His voice, grating and strangely accented, startled her. The only other sound in the area was the crackling of wood. Arcee stared at the other mech, who stared back intensely, at first unable to speak.

"What?" she asked, defensive as his red optics gazed over her, as if seeking out some kind of weakness. She wouldn't show _him_ that.

"Ghosts." Wildrider's grin never faltered, but it was strangely faded, the wild shadows making it even worse. "Humans call it ghosts. Sparks in vires."

Sparks. Not of electricity, but of a mech. Nonsense. Surely Wildrider was not that insane to think a spark lived in the wires of a mech's frame.

"Go away," Arcee demanded, resolved to ignore the mech until he left her alone. She didn't have the strength to put up with this. Her spark ached with renewed agony when Wildrider's electrical field seemed to dance even closer, mocking her.

Wildrider's optics never left her own, leaving her unable to ignore him. "They von't," he stated, ignoring her defensiveness. Then, with a small pause, he said, "Gestalt."

Anger surged past the pain for just a moment. "I swear to _Primus_ , if you do not—," Arcee swore, fingers twitching against her side, begging to transform into weapons to attack with, the opinion of the others be damned.

With little or no warning, the grin vanished off of his dark face. Arcee hesitated and for the first time since she had met him, Wildrider looked… serious. It did not suit him to frown. A grin or snarl, perhaps, but not this.

"Turn it off," he said simply. His optics left her face and seemed to settle on her chestplates, where her spark lay trembling, as if he could _see_ it. "The bond. It vill only get vorse and hurts too much to think. And you need to think, yes? In a vorld like this?"

He gestured absently at the location they were in, as if it proved his point somehow. Arcee already knew what he was talking about. What bothered her more was the fact that _he_ knew what she was going through.

"Vortex took long time to figure it out. Vheeljack can't help unless you stop feeling everything," Wildrider continued. His optics narrowed, but he looked at the ground between them, contemplating… something. "Vorld feels like mud vithout bond. …I know."

The fire dying almost completely now, red optic light washed over her and Arcee felt her own blue optics fading under the oppressing color.

Wildrider kept her pinned with his gaze. "Turn it off and use body to feel. _Only_ that," he said, voice abnormally severe. "Spark vill still vork. Promise. Just… no bond."

Arcee glared back at him. "I don't need your lecturing on how to feel," she snapped, trying to sound strong. She didn't think she pulled it off well enough to fool even this idiot. But Wildrider didn't try to mock her weakness. He ignored it.

"It's called _advice_ , femme," Wildrider said, sounding amused. His field suddenly retracted from Arcee's and it was like a douse of liquid nitrogen to a hot engine. The larger mech stood up, metal clanking, and he grinned again as he loomed over her. "Take it or don't. I just give it."

He left her alone, sitting there, reeling in what he had told her. Arcee didn't want to consider taking the advice from a Decepticon, of all creatures. They were her enemies, no matter their similar circumstances. To trust what he told her to do wasn't right.

Arcee kept telling herself that as she ran the protocols to offline the gestalt team programming. It went against everything she knew and believed in to do that. Part of her should have kept it on out of spite against Wildrider's words. She wasn't weak. She was a soldier and the past had to be remembered.

But it hurt. Primus. _It hurt so badly._

The next morning wasn't like any onlining Arcee had ever experienced. The world was _gone_. She was online, but disconnected from everything. She could still feel wind on her armor and feel the vibrations of heavy mech footsteps intermixing with the light and dull steps of the humans.

Calling the world muddy was surprisingly apt. Arcee couldn't stop trembling as the day went by, for the first time ever without her gestalt programming activated. All she could feel was… nothing. Just muted sensations against her armor. But there was no pain when Wheeljack approached her, even as their electromagnetic fields interacted.

"What's wrong, Arcee?" Wheeljack asked, concerned as she seemed to lean away form him despite the lack of pain. She understood why there wasn't any connection, but her body didn't. It felt… wrong.

"Nothing, Wheeljack," she said, both ashamed of the problem and sympathetic because she knew the scientist wouldn't understand it anyway. "I just… am not used to…"

She looked out at their camp and saw their companions—she didn't brave the term friends, yet—interacting calmly with one another. The humans exchanged physical gestures of comfort with one another—hugs, claps on the back, leaning into one another… and that was enough for them. Jazz and the other non-gestalt mechs either mirrored those gestures or were confident enough to take in the simple sense of each other's presence over anything extra.

If they could survive like this, she could, too. She had to.

"Nothing," she said again, this time more firmly. She smiled at the confused mech, trying to be better than she had been. "Thank you. For asking."

She ignored Wildrider's knowing smirk whenever she happened to look at him. He never said anything about it again and Arcee was grateful.

Several years later, while the femme underwent miscellaneous repairs and Kassandra held her hand, wearing a kind, sympathetic smile, Arcee was forced to realize that Wildrider had been right. When tiny, human hands gripped at her plating, that was more than enough touch to make up for what was lost.

 

  


* * *

  


**End** _**Touch.** _

_**Next** _ **: Flashing back to** _**Introductions Part 5** _ **, Danny deals with the aftermath of grief.**

  


* * *

  


**  
**

**A/Ns:**  
-" _Pryvet_ " is Russian for hello. Wildrider is fluent in both Russian and English, obviously.


	43. Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

2048 AD

 _Eastern Europe_

" _Run… RUN! DON'T STOP!"_

Danny wasn't exactly sure what happened. Much of it was a blur of metal when Wheeljack grabbed her and took off. Barns was screaming. Danny had never heard him scream or yell, ever. The sound of it was terrifying, because if he was screaming, it had to be really bad. Everyone was quiet, save for the thudding of metal on the pavement-and-then-grass. She hoped that Rachel had gotten help from one of the mechs, because she doubted any of them could run on foot from that swarm.

So many red, red eyes. Danny shuddered, afraid to close her eyes, because the moment she did, she knew those eyes would be the only thing she would see.

They got to the forest and kept running. It was terrifying, because Danny couldn't tell where anyone was. The forest was thick and difficult for the mechs to get through, but that was good. Fog was rolling in, which would mask their heat. They kept going, though Danny could still hear screaming.

Finally, Wheeljack stopped. Danny peered out beyond his hands and she could see only trees and rocks. After a moment, she realized the rocks were in fact in the shapes of houses. An old village, Wheeljack told her later, made by the people who lived on that land far before her own generation of humans came along. All the buildings were crumbled and unnaturally quiet.

They weren't that different from our cities, Danny considered, her mind numb. Maybe some other group of people will call our cities old too, someday.

She prayed there would be another group of people to think that, at least.

" _Is everyone okay? Is everyone here?"_

It was like stumbling out into a storm. Danny stepped away quickly from Wheeljack as he went off to fix damages and help the others. She didn't know what else to do in order to help, so she tried to stay out of the way.

No one was talking after that. Jazz had taken some bad hits, so he was resting near Thundercracker while Wheeljack fixed his wounds. Arcee was still injured, so she could only sit by and gaze out at the others with a mournful expression. Worried, Danny looked for Wildrider, but he was thankfully still there, sitting not too far away. He looked upset, but not hurt, which was good. Vortex moved slowly around the group to sit by himself. He looked like he needed the space.

Rachel was sitting against one of the rocky buildings and her eyes were shining as if she was about to cry. But there was a terrible darkness in and around them. It terrified Danny so much that she couldn't bear to look at her friend. Almost instinctually Danny knew she needed time to recover, alone.

Turning around, Danny saw Thundercracker trying to manage Barns, who ripped away from the mech, still yelling and crying. All of a sudden, the stunned numbness that had flooded her began to melt away and facts started to come back to her.

And then, slowly, Danny realized what had happened.

Goddard.

Oh… Goddard.

Danny opened her mouth to speak, but there were no words. There was… nothing _to_ say.

Breathing unsteadily, Danny found herself looking to Barns, who had stumbled from Thundercracker's grasp and made it all the way across the small clearing between the rocks before falling to the ground. He was making horrible sounds, almost like screaming, but he was crying, too.

Why was this happening? Danny didn't understand—she never had. Why were the drones trying to kill them? Was this their only purpose? To kill? To take what was precious and utterly destroy it?

Her face wet and hot, Danny couldn't understand how this was even possible.

They were going to stay there for the night. No one had the strength to move. Danny couldn't care less about the dangers of staying still, or how the mechs were organizing watch duty. She was done with being scared—she had moved right into the stage in between fear and final relief. She felt nothing.

Walking toward Barns, who had curled up on himself and was still crying, Danny tried to think of what to do for him and herself. She couldn't think of much, honestly. She— _didn't know what to do_.

Stepping closer, Danny stared down at the agonized young man, who had just lost his only remaining family.

"Barns?" she began, reaching out hesitantly.

The younger boy didn't look up at her. He sobbed again and drew in further on himself. Danny grimaced, his agony obviously much greater than her own. How could she think of her own pain, when he was like this?

Slowly, she crouched down in front of Barns. He didn't even flinch, not even when she wrapped her arm around him. He kept on crying and Danny did her best not to do the same, if only to be the stronger one for his sake.

Everything began to quiet down, at least out loud. The mechs were eerily quiet. Rachel had broken down eventually and was curled up with Thundercracker and Jazz. Her tears were silent though. Barns kept sobbing for a while and Danny awkwardly tried to be comforting. She didn't know what to do, other than to hug him with one arm and just be there.

After a long time, Barns stopped crying as loudly as he was. He was still crying and shaking, but Danny couldn't blame him.

Goddard was dead. Goddard… was gone. Inhaling deeply, Danny couldn't stop her own tears from dropping down her face. Everything was hurting inside her chest, though she didn't know why.

 _Why?_

Next to her, Barns shifted. "I'm sorry," he gasped, shivering violently. He made a strange, choking sound, but Danny almost thought he laughed while doing it. "Sorry… Danny."

"For what?" she asked, startled. She was more surprised by the fact that he had spoken after all that silence.

"Being like… this," he said. He shuddered again and gripped his face with his free hand. "You must think terribly of me."

She tightened her hold of his hand, frowning deeply. "No… not at all," she said firmly. "Not at all."

How was any of this his fault? Or anyone's? Danny couldn't fathom how he could have been apologizing for—for being upset.

The fog was misting over them, but Danny didn't feel like getting up to get a blanket. She was already cold. Barns was shivering, so she moved closer and tried to make up for, well, everything. Wheeljack saw them huddled there and seemed to look for their blankets across the camp, thankfully.

" 'ave you ever… lost someone?" Barns suddenly asked, leaning closer into her shoulder. He sounded awful and his accent was very thick.

Danny shook her head slowly. "… My mother. But I was very young," she replied. "I don't remember her at all. I must have had a family at some point. I…" She looked out at the dirt and shrugged slightly. "I don't miss them, because I don't remember them."

That was mostly true. She wished she could have met her mother once and remembered it, but she knew it was impossible. She didn't feel this kind of intense emotion about her or anyone else.

No one in her life had ever been lost that way, not anyone Danny remembered at least.

"You are lucky, then." Barns' face was tinged with pain. " _Mon cœur fait mal_."

She didn't understand what he said, but she understood he was hurting, badly. "It's going to be okay, Barns," she said, whispering, meaning it even if she knew it might not actually get better. "I promise."

His hand gripped tightly around hers and Danny trembled, trying to support the larger boy. It wasn't easy, but she would, because she had to. If she couldn't support her friends when they needed her most, she had failed as a friend. That was all she could offer them, really, because she was either too small or too weak to do anything more.

They hung on each other for a long time and Danny didn't mind at all. The world could have faded away completely and she wouldn't have noticed. Her chest still hurt, as if something was actually killing her from the inside. No… it was more like suffocating. She tried to breathe in more air, but nothing helped.

 _Why?_

Heavy, mechanical footsteps to the other side of Barns and the years of practice listening to which sounds belonged to which mech told Danny Wheeljack had walked up to them. She saw him standing there, optics sad and dark like his earfins, holding out a couple of heavy blankets.

"Danny? Are you… alright?" he asked, concerned. He spoke quietly, but Barns seemed intent on ignoring the world. Then again, the shivers could have been from the cold and not his emotions, so he could have been asleep.

"My heart hurts," Danny said to him, confused. Why? She hadn't gotten hurt physically in the fight. Thinking about it—she just wanted to cry like Barns was.

Wheeljack tilted his head, his earfins flashing lowly. "It is called grief," he said quietly, voice tight.

She knew that word, but only its definition. Danny stared at him and then turned away. "Oh," she said, sounding far, far away, even to her own ears. She kept running her hand absently over Barns' shuddering back, which seemed to be the only anchor her mind had to reality.

Why was this happening?

She took the blankets and managed to untangle herself from Barns, covering him warmly. She felt bad, leaving him alone, but she didn't stray far. Wheeljack sat down next to them and Danny instinctively curled up next to him, wrapped up in her own blanket. It did nothing to stave the increasing pressure in her chest.

Wheeljack let her sit there, watching over them both as night fell over their make-shift camp and things really got quiet. Danny stared out at Barns, wanting to grab him tight and never let go. She wanted to hold all of her friends to her chest, to protect them—to keep them there with her.

Goddard was never going to be there. Not… ever. Ever was a long, long time, Wheeljack had once told her.

The light above shifted. Danny looked up and saw Wheeljack peering back at her, his mask removed. He had on such a sad expression, Danny's resolve crumbled.

Then, suddenly, she threw herself at his hand as he reached down to cup her closer.

Wheeljack froze, as not to squish her accidentally. "Danny?" he asked again, startled.

"Don't ever leave me, please," she blurted, unable to keep the emotions down. Everything was blurred together, in grief and in the suffocating sense of _loss_. She never wanted to lose anyone, ever, again. Not like this. Never like this—

Wheeljack made a deep rumbling sound that shook through his hands, jostling her. "I cannot promise you that," he replied, sad. "Just as you cannot promise me the same, Danielle. You know this."

She knew death. She knew the dangers they faced, every waking and sleeping moment when they walked upon this dying world. She hated it. She feared it. She couldn't… accept it. Not after this.

"I don't want to be alone. I don't want—," she continued, knowing she was babbling through tears. She didn't want to feel like this again. To feel her heart ripped out of her chest, as if nothing in the world would be able to fix the hurt left behind by the loss of her loved ones.

The mech made another quiet sound and his giant hand rose up around her, trying to shield her from everything else. "You won't be, Danny. Look around you," Wheeljack began. He sounded sad still, but he spoke so gently, Danny looked up at him. His earfins glowed brightly against the dark forest. "You have friends. Family. We are a family, all of us. Goddard's loss is a loss for us all, but we are still here. For you and for Barns."

She gulped back a wave of crying. Wheeljack tilted his head, sympathetic. Danny could see his own grief beneath the metal surface, though. They all knew loss.

"And if the day comes where another is lost…," the mech began quietly, "nothing can replace them, but always remember you will not be alone. That I do promise."

Danny knew better than to trust in promises, even from her friends and father. Nothing was guaranteed in this world. Even she wasn't naïve enough to believe that.

But it was nice to think that grief had one good effect. Danny gripped the giant's metal skin, knowing she was frailer than he was and would never be able to properly hug him. He was still Wheeljack, though. He was still… important.

"I miss him already," Danny whispered, heart hurting even more now. Goddard had been her friend, her teacher. He had been a father to all of them. How could they move on from this? How could things get better? It felt hopeless.

Wheeljack's hand never stopped supporting her. "Good," he said, surprising her again. He smiled faintly, the gesture almost lost in the dim light. "Remember him, in your heart. Never let him go. He will never leave you that way… they will not be able to take away the memories or the love."

Danny sobbed and grabbed onto his hand tightly, he hugging back with only his fingers. She hurt still and she knew it wouldn't fade for a long time.

It felt hopeless, but Danny believed in hope. She would hold on like Wheeljack said. It might not have brought Goddard back, or her mother, or all of the loved ones they had all lost to time and violence—but if it was all she could do, she was certainly going to do it.

Danny let go of her guardian, who urged her to rest. Before she could even think of lying down to sleep, she turned around to her grieving friend. Reaching out, she grasped Barns' hand. She held on tightly, as if holding on would keep him—then others—and herself there together.

Perhaps one day it would get easier. For now, she would just keep holding on.

 

 **End** _**Sorrow** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: In a continuation of "Devotion," Thundercracker asks Jazz a question. Things get really awkward, really fast.**


	44. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Germany  
Spring_

It was just another day of traveling and Barns wasn't surprised that he and his friends had resorted to simple games to pass the time. They had run through _I Spy_ and a game of tag between the humans had ended shortly after Wildrider insisted he play as well. Barns felt odd playing such silly games when they were all nearing or over twenty years of age now, but even the mechs enjoyed the distraction. Traveling in silence got boring faster than playing the same games over and over.

"Truth or dare?" Kass asked, as they climbed over a fallen log. The path along the mountain they were following unfortunately started down at a sharp incline. To avoid the chances of being squished by a falling mech, the humans had taken a slightly higher position away from the Transformers as they all descended the mountain. Fortunately the robots had sensitive hearing, so they could play as well.

"Dare," Rachel said automatically. It wasn't surprising to Barns that she always chose _dare_ , given how headstrong she was.

Biting her lip in concentration, Kass said, "I dare you… to… sing the _Little Tea Pot_ song."

Rachel sent her an outraged look. "You know I can't sing!" she exclaimed. Kass just smirked mercilessly, and waited.

Barns just laughed along with the others as Rachel intoned an utterly flat and unmusical rendition of the child's song. Wildrider was particularly enthused by the singing, which he always found fascinating; this time, he took pleasure in comparing Danny's much better singing skills to Rachel's nonexistent ones. As expected, a bickering match broke out.

"Play nice," Jazz chided from further down the trail, not even bothering to look back at them.

"Truth or dare?" Rachel snarled, glaring at Danny, as if she had been the source of the problems. Danny just laughed and the game went on.

Smiling to himself, Barns reveled in the frivolous conversation. It was soothing and familiar.

Well, at least it was until they got to one _particular_ round of questioning.

"Truth," Kass said, which was almost as obvious an answer as Rachel's 'dare'. Kass knew better than to trust her friends with a dare; she was smart.

Danny pursed her lips, considering. "Have you ever thought about getting married?" she asked.

"HA!" Kass burst out with a short laugh. She shook her head, chuckling still, as their group finally managed to reassemble down at the foot of the incline. "Really? Um. Nah. Relationships like that aren't my top priority."

"Ya mean ya _aren't_ plannin' t' propose t' Wheeljack?" Jazz demanded, looking and sounding effectively scandalized. Rachel and Wildrider burst out into hysterical laughter and Kass glowered at him. Wheeljack himself was laughing, but silently so as to not anger Kass either. Bluestreak just tilted his head in confusion.

Barns laughed, too. "Not even _truth_ is safe," he said to Kass, shaking his head with a smile. She scowled and refused to give any of them the benefit of a reaction.

On a somewhat decent path now, Barns had expected Kass to continue the game after a few moments brooding, but strangely, it wasn't she who spoke next.

"Hey," Danny began, her voice competing with the background sounds of mech legs marching and clanking. It was an otherwise quiet stretch of woods. "Wheeljack, I was wondering something?"

"Yes?" the inventor asked, turning his head slightly to look down at her.

Danny squinted back up at him, obviously pondering something. "What do mechs have for marriage?" she asked.

Barns stopped and gave Danny a bewildered look. Wheeljack appeared startled by the question, which did seem rather… random.

"What?" the inventor asked. His earfins flashed brighter for a moment. " _Oh_! you mean a bond. We have something… similar to human marriage. Not in the religious sense. Spark bonding is a far more physical thing."

"Oh, right, right. Like the Gestalt thing," Rachel said, glancing over at Wildrider. "I remember that whole thing. You can feel each other with your minds."

Wheeljack nodded as they all continued to move. "Correct, in a human sense," he replied. "When two Transformers wish to bond, they connect their sparks. Once that happens, they can feel each other, even across long distances."

"It is like marriage then," Barns said, chuckling. For once, it was almost like the humans and Transformers had something culturally in common. That was a rare thing indeed. "Only I suppose a superior version."

Wildrider cackled. "You expected less from us, squishy?" he challenged. Barns just rolled his eyes.

They started walking again and Barns thought they'd be going back to the game eventually. The silence was companionable, at least until Danny, walking alongside Barns, decided to speak up again.

"Say…" the smallest human in their group began, voice ringing with curiosity.

"Hmm?"

Danny's frown turned pensive. "If getting married for you guys is being bonded, why aren't TC and Jazz bonded?" she asked.

The bluntness of her words was enough to startle Barns into stopping and it was certainly enough to cause all of the mechs and other humans to stop walking and turn to face the brunette who had spoken. Danny stared back at Wheeljack, innocently, waiting for an answer.

 _C'est maladroit_ , Barns thought, grimacing.

Everyone was staring at Danny, or rather, they were pointedly not looking at Jazz or Thundercracker, who were now incredibly tense and definitely _not_ looking at each other. Even Wildrider had the sense not to say anything or laugh. Bluestreak opened his mouth to speak, but immediately closed it, picking up on the tension immediately.

Kass sent Danny a worried look. "…Um…"

"Way to go," Rachel muttered darkly, glancing at Thundercracker and Jazz quickly, as if waiting for them to have an outburst. Barns watched them carefully as well, but neither reacted, in any way. Their silence was intimidating.

"What?" Danny asked, startled. "Do you guys not want to be married?"

Swallowing nervously, Barns walked over and grasped her shoulder, now feeling increasingly awkward under the scrutiny of the mechs above. "Uh, Danny, that's not, um…" he began, faltering. Danny still looked surprised, but stopped talking, gazing up at the mechs uncertainly.

Wheeljack moved closer, over a tree log, and crouched closer to the two humans. "Perhaps we should cease this conversation," he said, tilting his head and keeping his voice quiet.

Danny opened her mouth to speak, but Jazz beat her to it. He walked closer, nodding at Wheeljack and then the others. "Day light's fadin'," he said shortly. Without another glance at anyone, Jazz pressed onward past the others, leading the way through the forest as if nothing had happened.

Awkward.

Barns sighed heavily as he followed after the silver mech, the others doing likewise. They all knew Thundercracker and Jazz were close, but for some reason, the topic of anything closer was taboo. Barns had figured it out sooner than the other humans, including Rachel; both mechs were just very sensitive about their pasts. A love between a Decepticon and an Autobot could be reconciled after several years of trying, obviously, but there were still some lines they couldn't cross. That was, at least, what Barns assumed.

"Why did you ask anyway, Danny?" Bluestreak asked, frowning. The humans had moved together and he had crept up, eyeing the other mechs warily.

"Well, I was thinking about what it'd be like if Barns ever proposed to _me_ ," Danny replied without pause, as if that were a perfectly acceptable answer. "My brain just kept going from there."

Barns was satisfied that only Arcee saw him trip into a sapling and she was kind enough not to laugh openly at him.

 **0000**

Thundercracker wasn't going to bring it up if it wasn't necessary. Danny's question had startled all of them and seemed to bring up the fact that he and Jazz were actually avoiding the topic of bonding, though that was understandable from their point of view. He had been ready to drop it entirely, because it had come up before and with little action following, but unfortunately, dropping it wasn't an option this time.

Jazz was very tense. Most likely it was because he knew the humans were waiting for a reaction. The last time they had discussed bonding had been ages ago, when Rachel had been with them for less than a year. The argument hadn't ended peacefully.

Thundercracker was not against bonding. He wanted to. Somewhere between realizing he had in fact fallen for an Autobot and gaining the responsibility of a real family unit, he had made the personal decision that if the opportunity came up he would bond with Jazz. Every other aspect of their lives was entwined and Thundercracker would do, well, anything for his mate. Bonding would be the logical step if they were anywhere else among their own kind.

But they weren't. They were on Earth and every day was a new struggle to survive. Bonded sparks were connected in a way the humans barely could comprehend. If a drone or another accident killed either Jazz or Thundercracker, well, it might as well kill both of them. That was the first and most coherent reason why bonding was such a bad idea. It could cost their group two members instead of just one.

That grim but logical reason was only one of the causes for avoiding bonding, however. Thundercracker could argue all day with Jazz over the second reason, which in the jet's mind seemed completely absent of logic.

They had both lost mates. They were both still in the throes of grieving. Jazz still mourned Prowl's apparent death. He had never received closure, after all. It was the mere memory of Prowl that prevented Jazz from considering bonding.

It almost seemed unfair. Thundercracker should have been the one to reject the idea of bonding the most for this reason. He _had_ been bonded before and the loss of the connection had been more than torture. It had almost ripped his spark in half—technically, it had. He should have been the one to use the excuse of the past to avoid connecting with another mech.

But he was okay with it, because he knew Skywarp would have approved Thundercracker getting some semblance of his life back to what it had been, when they had just been in a two-sided war, and not a galaxy-wide genocide. This was his life now and he could choose to love whom he pleased. If he was destined to die at the hands of the drones or just from the elements, Thundercracker didn't want to die alone. To be connected to another soul he loved… was the optimum situation in a dark, inevitable future.

Jazz didn't see it that way. He saw it as a betrayal. It didn't matter if Thundercracker was a Decepticon or an Autobot, mech or femme. He didn't doubt the saboteur loved him. In fact, Thundercracker was more than certain the silver mech would do anything (perhaps not sacrifice one of the children, but that was a given for all of the Transformers) for Thundercracker. Jazz just… couldn't let go of the past. It haunted him in a way even Skywarp's death didn't do to Thundercracker.

Most times they could get by this by ignoring the topic. Not this time. Thundercracker was impatient about it, but he could hardly blame himself. He wished the Autobot could leave his regrets behind him, because it was holding them all back, especially their relationship.

He should have just dropped it. But the question of _Why Not_ hung over their heads now that Danny had inadvertently brought it up again. He knew the answers already, but there was always a rebellious feeling of _Maybe_ whenever it did come up. Maybe Jazz would change his mind.

"We could try," he said, putting it as simply as possible, when it was just the two of them seated away from the others at a campsite. It had only been a day, but they were both avoiding talking to each other at all. It was always safer that way.

As expected, Jazz didn't turn around. If he were human, he probably would have sighed and sagged his shoulders.

"Bad idea," the silver mech finally said, voice deceptively calm.

Thundercracker frowned at the back of his head. "No worse than anything else."

There was a pause. "You know why," Jazz said quietly, not turning around.

As the humans might have pointed out, the tension only increased. "…Fine." Thundercracker leaned away, knowing it was a lost cause to try to continue.

It wasn't important; he just had to keep remembering that. They were closer than they would be in a normal army, after all. Every day, until the end of either life, they would be together. Bonding would give them something a little closer, but it wasn't necessary. Waking up to see each other's faces was a good replacement. Thundercracker kept wishing they could at least reach an agreement of some sort. Until then, they would keep reaching standstills that got them nowhere.

He saw the humans look worriedly over at him and the jet looked away.

 **0000**

To say Rachel was nervous was an understatement. She had seen a serious fight between her guardians before, but it had never ended nicely.

"They're still fighting," she seethed, continuing to eye the two mechs across the field.

"Relax," Kass said, stacking dishes. She smiled reassuringly back at the blond, but Rachel didn't feel any better. "It'll blow over. They're not even arguing."

"No, they're doing that no-talking thing again," Rachel said, biting her lip. From where she could see, they were calm around each other, but still refusing to hold a decent conversation. It was better than the last fight, of course; at least now they could sit near each other peaceably. "I mean, not as bad as last time, but they're still… tense."

The British woman shook her head. "It's just because of the bonding thing, right?" she asked, tilting her head. "They just don't want to get involved with the process?"

Rachel wanted to say yes, but honestly, she wasn't sure. Anytime they had brought up human concepts of marriage, there hadn't been problems. Even talking about mech bonding, concerning other mechs of course, hadn't caused tension. Bringing it up specifically about Thundercracker and Jazz, however, had. This was… personal.

"…I think it's more than that," she said after a moment. She frowned, peering over at the mechs in question, remembering the few times their relationship did get brought up in conversation. "TC seems okay with it. Always did. Jazz is the pussy." She paused. "In more ways than one."

Barns scowled over by the fire. "Thanks, Rachel. Thanks," he said, sarcastic.

Irritated, Rachel shook her head and turned away from the mechs finally. "I don't know if we should ask if they're okay," she said, feeling desperate.

"They'll be okay," Kass assured her.

Danny, who had been setting up her pallet to sleep on, frowned deeply. "I still don't get why they're so picky," she said. "If you love somebody, why don't you make it official? Not like they can't. I mean, it's not like how humans gotta have a priest or whatever."

Kass shrugged. "I think it's the whole bonding one's spark to another thing," she said. "And it's not like anything can be official anymore."

"Then I still don't get it," Danny replied, sighing. "If it's from the heart, or spark, then… it should be easy."

Rachel frowned and glared at her feet. It should have been easy, but obviously, it wasn't. Jazz was _always_ easy-going. It had to be more than just not wanting to commit or making something official between them. They loved each other enough for everything else. Why this was such a problem, she didn't know.

Looking upwards, she saw the bleak sky and the broken tree tops. She scowled.

Why wouldn't they want to make it solid between them, a bond? In a world like this, they should have been taking advantage of that connection. Any moment could be their last. They should have been happy and willing to tie the knot, just to be closer to one another.

…Unless this was the problem. Rachel stole another long stare at her adopted parents, who were pointedly not looking at each other. Maybe the danger of living that closely tied with each other when any one of them might die the next day was _too_ great. They had to think of the future, including the off chance that one of them might die. The other could live, only if they weren't bonded.

That… sucked.

Rachel stared at the fire and wondered if that was the only reason. It made sense. It hurt to realize and she only felt worse knowing she couldn't do a thing to help.

They could handle it, though, as they always had. She was sure of it. They just needed time. That much she could give them.

 **0000**

It had been going on for too long, but to be honest Jazz had absolutely no idea how to fix something that really, really didn't have an easy answer. He couldn't give in for a variety of reasons, but he also understood why Thundercracker remained steadfast in his own position. Jazz knew Thundercracker was, well… humans would have called him old-fashioned. They had gone to every level of companionship in the last few decades, and he'd enjoyed every moment of it, so it was only logical that they take the next and last step, which was bonding.

Unfortunately, logic and intense emotions didn't go hand-in-hand. It complicated things greatly.

Everyone was prickly and it was all because of them. Jazz frowned to himself as the day went on and he felt guilty for worrying the others. It wasn't really that serious. It wasn't like he and Thundercracker were actually fighting. Just… actively avoiding a topic that made them both squirm like younglings. They didn't know what to do. There was no moving on. Not… like that.

It had to end, though, the standstill. The last time an issue like this had happened it had been solved by a crisis (surprise drone attack plus Rachel spraining an ankle), but for the last few days, they had experienced very little action. That was good, but disaster always loomed on the horizon. They couldn't afford to be caught off guard by not speaking to one another, even if the silence was out of a fear of causing a fight rather than actually being involved in one. This was a matter of preservation for the entire group. So… as much as Jazz hated it, they had to be adults about the matter.

Spark fluctuating with his nerves, Jazz waited until he and Thundercracker were alone on watch duty. When he was certain the others were either asleep or in recharge, he turned to face his partner, who had been staring up at the sky, as if they could still see the stars clearly. They hadn't in decades.

"We should talk," Jazz said, aiming for calm.

Yesterday Thundercracker had tried the same approach, so Jazz wasn't too surprised that the jet shrugged now. "We shouldn't," Thundercracker said, very disinterested. "Not worth it."

That was almost true. Talking about it most likely wouldn't change a damn thing, but the awkward silence had to stop. It was freaking the kids out. Jazz wanted to push it and Thundercracker seemed to understand that, because he stood up to walk away.

Jazz watched as Thundercracker turned, to end the conversation, and he realized this was probably the only chance he was going to have today to stop the non-argument.

So, he tripped him.

It was only Jazz's more nimble speed in addition to the incline they were on that helped him tip Thundercracker's immense weight. Jazz never forgot that, even by accident, the jet could easily shatter the spy's weaker frame. He had to dodge out of the way when the jet fell backwards, snarling quietly if that were even possible. He had probably seen the move coming, Jazz thought, amused. They didn't need a bond to be able to read each other's thoughts.

Thundercracker grabbed a hold of one of the standing pines, bracing himself with tremendous grace that didn't seem to fit a mech of his size, but that had been a desperate move. They didn't want to wake the others, after all. Especially not when Thundercracker reached back and grabbed Jazz by the collar strut and the scuffle was _on_.

If anything, Jazz's smaller stature served him better when it came to wrestling matches like these. Thundercracker never aimed to hurt the smaller mech, ever, so he held back. Jazz only had to make sure he didn't puncture the jet's exterior or joints with his claws. Of course, now, they had to avoid too many clangs or crashes, but at the moment, Jazz suddenly didn't care if the others woke up. _They_ needed this.

Sliding down the hill, Thundercracker braced himself against a stronger tree trunk as Jazz continued to push back, struggling to flip them back over to get the upper hand. Gravity gave him the edge tonight, because there was no way he'd be able to actually push that hard against the jet's arms on level ground.

Almost without prompt, their near-silent fighting spilled out into words. "You are too fragging stubborn!" Thundercracker hissed, red optics searing through the dark. He wasn't talking about the mock fight.

"An' you got yer head in th' clouds!" Jazz shot back, forcing himself not to actually fight back for real. "This ain't Cybertron! This ain't some warship!"

"Don't you use that excuse on me." Thundercracker glared. "This isn't about Earth. It's never been about Earth!"

Jazz's own visor narrowed. "You think this is about—about Prowl?" he demanded, anger growing irrationally. "What about Skywarp, huh? You think you're the only mech out here who can forget the past?"

"I don't forget it. I can move past it," Thundercracker said, as if that made him better.

The tree beneath them creaked dangerously. "So can I!" Jazz said, altering his volume level in mid-speech, because he almost shouted. He pushed harder, almost standing over Thundercracker now on the hillside.

Thundercracker sneered. "Ha!"

Chest on fire, Jazz grappled for control, both over the stronger jet limbs beneath him as well as his vocalizer.

"If I couldn't let go—if I couldn't forget about him— _why the frag am I still here_? !" he snarled, slamming into Thundercracker so hard, the trunk either snapped or Thundercracker's leg slipped. Either way, they both flew forward down the hill until Thundercracker managed to catch another tree.

Slamming into one another with a moderate clang, the rest of the forest and camp fell silent. Jazz glowered up at the jet and tried to keep a tap on his emotions. He failed partly.

"You think… you think if I was _that_ … dependent on him…" he bit out, processors stumbling over the surge of _regret_ _agony_ _shame_ _misery_ , "that I'd still be alive?"

That he'd still be alive after reeling over the loss of his entire world? Everything was gone. His planet, his friends, his first true love—all of it. Everything he had ever known as home. They had rebuilt it, all of them, with each other, however. They had overcome their past tragedies to make a new family. He had Thundercracker now, and Rachel, plus everyone else who had managed to matter after he had lost fragging _everything else_.

But if he hadn't… found them… if he had not found Thundercracker, or Rachel, or anyone else on Earth… and if he really was that desperate to cling to the past…

What would have been the pointing in going on living in a world like this alone?

Thundercracker stared up at him, arms out in front of him still, but neither of them was pushing for control anymore. They just hung there on each other, the silence of night enveloping them.

"I loved him. I loved him _a_ _lot_ , TC," Jazz said, spark aching. "But he's dead. An' I'm not."

Quietly, he leaned back, stepping back up the incline to give Thundercracker room to stand up straight as well.

"We're not," Jazz added quietly. The finality of his own words shook him to the core.

Thundercracker rumbled. "Then why not bond?" he asked. He didn't push it. He seemed more curious now that anything.

"Because—" Jazz started, but his vocalizer failed. He sighed. "It wouldn't do anythin' fer us. An'…"

A slight breeze made the trees creak, or it could have been one of them. Jazz didn't really distinguish between the sounds; he was more focused on looking anywhere but at Thundercracker.

"I'm scared," he finally said, putting it as bluntly as possible. Danny would have referred to it as 'pulling the Band-Aid off quicker to make it hurt less.' "I don't want t' lose my spark twice. Me an' Prowl weren't bonded, but it was almost th' same."

That caused Thundercracker's optics to narrow. "You have no idea how different it is," he began, voice dangerously low.

Okay, he had hit a cord there. Jazz shook his helm, looking away. "…I know you got hurt too, TC. But…" he trailed off. "At least…"

At least Thundercracker had had a body to mourn over. There were no doubts for him. No second guesses going into a new relationship. He had had a clean slate. Jazz… Jazz had been given a muddied, uncertain new chance. One that could have been a betrayal, or maybe not. The doubt was worse than the actual loss. From the look on the jet's face, he seemed to understand what Jazz meant.

"If you die tomorrow… I don't know what th' frag I'd do. I don't know if I _could_ keep on living," Jazz said, forcing himself to keep eye contact. "But if you died tomorrow an' we were bonded… an' even if I somehow survived… I wouldn't want t' keep living." His voice grew harder as his spark became calmer with resolve. "I'm done losin' people."

They couldn't stop the hands of fate snatching anyone away from them, but he would try. He would try his damn best to keep them together. It was all they could do.

Thundercracker frowned. "…You…" he began, hesitant. Uncertain. At least they were calm again.

Jazz pressed on with his argument, knowing this was probably the best time they had ever had for having an intelligent discussion about the matter. "And Rachel. What about her?" he prompted. "How fair would it be t' her if we bonded an' we ended up gettin' slagged t'gether?"

There was a few seconds pause. "…Valid point," Thundercracker muttered, glancing toward the camp.

"We don't need it," he said, catching the jet's optics again. He smiled, the gesture weak but honest. "I mean it. We really don't need it t' be closer."

They woke up with each other, fought by each other, recharged and refueled with one another—they were always close. Close in a human way. An Earth way.

It was alright by him.

"Really?" Thundercracker asked, tilting his head as Jazz walked up closer and rested his hands on his chestplates.

Jazz grinned. "Naw, we don't," he said, spark feeling lighter. "I already see what ya are." Leaning closer, he touched the top of his helm to Thundercracker's chin. "You're TC. My best friend. You… Rachel… you guys are everythin' t'me."

Thundercracker smiled down at him and raised his hand to cup the back of Jazz's head. All of a sudden, things seemed a lot more stable. Jazz liked that.

"I love you," he said, meaning it more than he had ever expected to after living alone for so long.

The jet, always patient and always kind, smiled back in his usual gentle way. "I love you, too."

This was more than enough to keep going on.

 **0000**

Almost four days after the "marriage incident," Kass felt the pressure dissipate around their party of eleven— _finally_. She smiled over at Jazz and Thundercracker, who apparently over the course of yesterday and the morning, got their acts together and made amends. Rachel looked far better as well; whenever her guardians got upset with one another, she always got upset as well, being as sensitive as she was. Kass was just glad the storm had passed without any prolonged drama.

At least… until lunch.

Both Jazz and Thundercracker had been companionably quiet, walking side by side, for most of the day. Kass didn't think they were up to anything, and that was saying something, considering she could usually sense when Jazz was in a pranking mood before he struck. They had just settled for a quick lunch ( _those clouds looked rain-ready_ , she thought grimly), when Danny unfortunately spoke up again.

"Nice to see you both being nice to each other again," she said, grinning over at the saboteur and jet, who were seated next to one another comfortably.

Jazz grinned, visor brightening. "Better than nice," he said, glee and cheer mixing in his voice. Kass paused, picking up on the glee. _Glee_ was never good.

"Oh?" Rachel prompted, frowning over at the two. The others in the camp also noticed and were waiting expectantly for further elaboration.

Jazz looked up at Thundercracker, whose expression revealed nothing, and then he grinned back at his audience. "We were going to wait until tonight t' tell y'all, but…" His grin expanded and only then did Kass notice he was purposely holding one of his hands back, out of eyesight. "I couldn't resist tellin' y'all now!"

Exchanging a quick worried glance with Kass, Rachel asked, "…Tell us… what?"

The silver mech shivered with excitement before he thrust his hidden hand out into the open, where everyone could see it.

"We're gettin' married!" he gushed.

Rachel burst out laughing, falling over into Kass, who began to laugh once she noticed the terribly awkward metal _ring_ wrapped around Jazz's claw. It had to have been scrap metal they had swiped from Wheeljack, but the pure enthusiastic look on Jazz's faceplates and Thundercracker's deadpan expression made it _perfect_.

Wildrider immediately screeched, possibly joining in on the faux-glee Jazz was promoting, but it took the others a few moments longer to figure out what had happened. Barns and Wheeljack exchanged quick looks before smiling awkwardly. Danny looked speechless, clearly believing them for at least a few seconds, while Vortex and Arcee looked horrified. Bluestreak took it, hook, line and sinker.

"Are you _serious_? !" Danny gasped, torn between looking delighted and just plain stunned.

"He bought me a ring an' _everythin'_!" Jazz said instead, pretending to gaze at the fake ring with adoration. Behind him, Thundercracker's calm façade wavered and Kass just giggled.

Arcee saw the jet's expression as well, always looking for evidence that her friends were teasing her less-savvy knowledge of emotions, and snarled. "You had better be joking," she said.

That did get Thundercracker to scoff, breaking into a small smile that Kass easily identified as the usual smirk he wore instead of sharing in laughter. For him, that was cracking up. Jazz broke too and dropped his hand, joining Rachel in laughing.

"Primus," Vortex muttered darkly, moving away from them, having had enough.

Bluestreak was fumbling for some sort of definite answer. "Wait, are you serious?" he asked, bewildered.

Wheeljack inspected the fake ring, shaking his head. "It's nice to see you find this amusing," he said. "Better than arguing."

"Awww, we're cool, we're cool," Jazz said, smirking. He nudged Thundercracker before moving back toward the campfire. He sat down again, smiling at Rachel. "Good t' see you laughin', kiddo."

Rachel just smiled back at him. "You're both idiots," she said, glancing over at Thundercracker, who chose to ignore the jibe, looking content where he was seated across from them.

Kass settled back down next to Jazz, feeling far lighter inside. The tension had finally lifted. "I take it things _are_ better now," she said, smiling gently up at the saboteur. Obviously, they had talked their problems out last night and found some sort of resolution. Whatever the decision had been (she wouldn't try to pry on something that sensitive), she was happy that they were happy.

"Oh, better than ever, Kass," Jazz replied, chuckling, leaning casually against a nearby tree. The others moved closer, including Rachel, who smirked at the silver mech.

"It's okay that you're not legally married," she said. "The world doesn't care about whores anymore anyway."

"Nice… Rachel. Nice," Kass said, forcing herself to scowl, even as the others just laughed. Bluestreak was still eyeing Jazz's ring with some degree of suspicion.

Rachel grinned, shameless. "What? I'm just being literal."

Jazz laughed anyway, sitting up and then standing. "Come on. Let's get packed up an' ready t' go," he announced, grinning at them. "Time's a-wastin'."

They gathered their supplies in a manner that was both dully identical to every other camp clean up they had ever done as well as incredibly therapeutic. There were no awkward silences or arguments. Just the humans piling their things away and Jazz and Wildrider cracking jokes… as per usual.

Standing back, Kass observed her friends, pleased that her belief in their ability to move on was well placed. She worried about a lot of things, but never doubted their ability to overcome what made them stumble. They would always have their ups and down, because that was normal, but they would always find a way back to this: jokes, forgiveness, teasing, safety, acceptance…

Home.

Picking up her bag, she followed her friends without fear—because everything was just as it should have been.

 

 **End** _**Bonds.** _

_**Next** _ **: A glimpse into Bluestreak and Kass's first interesting (and traumatic) weeks among the group.**


	45. New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

The first night she spent with the strange group of mechs and human survivors, she didn't actually sleep. She lay awake the whole night next to an alien fire with literal aliens scattered all around her. Her parents and her brother were dead, unfamiliar humans snored nearby and the only "person" she had any trust in, Bluestreak, was offline yards away. She couldn't bear to close her eyes, afraid she would see again the crumpled, mangled bodies of everyone she had ever known. Sleep was impossible.

But the human body could only do without sleep for so long. On the third day, she woke up to the smell of weak coffee and pancakes. Tears stung her eyes when she opened them, because all she wanted to smell was her mother's tea and biscuits. All she wanted to see was her mother's back as she cooked on their small portable stove.

All she had ever experienced, all she could remember was waking up with her family, helping to take care of Kevin and help with the daily chores of their small, imperfect life.

Now, she woke every morning to the greetings of strangers, in a world she had no role in.

It didn't seem to get easier after the first week.

She expected the mechs to be the hardest to deal with. There were so many of them! She had only ever seen one alien before in her life, Bluestreak, and although she hadn't been afraid of him she hadn't trusted him. But now she was surrounded by them, and nearly all of them were taller and bulkier than Bluestreak was. Only Arcee and Jazz were smaller. The tallest, Thundercracker, seemed to have a frightening disposition, but after seeing him interact with Jazz and Rachel, she realized he was just big and gruff. Wheeljack was also tall, but friendly. Vortex was genuinely scary at times, but he thankfully seemed to be anti-social enough to leave her alone. He didn't like Bluestreak though, which worried Kass every time they tangled, even briefly.

Arcee was the only sane one as far as Kass was concerned. She seemed a bit too proper, but at least she knew the definition of boundaries. Wildrider did not. Wildrider scared Kass and not just because he used to be one of the bad aliens. He was, well, wild and childish. That made him a hazard more than the others, but at least he tried to be friendly. In his own crazy way.

But it wasn't the robots who worried her the most. It was clear that there were several unspoken, but unbreakable rules the Transformers had put in place concerning the organics in their midst. They didn't touch unless they had to or the touch was asked for. They minded their step and watched out for their weaker friends in fights.

No, the aliens were actually rather nice. Bluestreak was flourishing in he presence of his own kind for the first time in decades and that made Kass happy for her friend. Unfortunately, it was Kass's own race that had her the most on edge.

She was used to humans, obviously, but the three in the group just seemed so vastly different from the people she had grown up with. She had known jokesters, had been exposed to depressed, aggressive or spontaneous humans before, but Barns, Danny and Rachel just were entirely different.

Danny had been the first human she had connected with on that fateful day. She liked the older, smaller girl for the same reason she trusted any of them at all: she listened well. She was also a talker, however, and after several days of living with her, Kass realized Danny was also incredibly hyperactive. That was a nice way of saying it, Kass supposed, because otherwise she would have just said, 'entirely lacking in self-preservation instincts.' Danny adored Wildrider and would always humor or inspire his antics without putting much thought into the idea of what could go wrong. Being around Danny was unnerving, because Kass never knew what sort of insane plot the girl was planning next for a good laugh.

Rachel was terrifying. While Kass greatly admired her tenacity and fearlessness when it came to the mechs or the drones, Rachel's aggressive behavior didn't seem to have an off-switch. Kass could get rather nasty on the battlefield as well, but she didn't see a reason why she had to be nasty when she wasn't near an enemy. Rachel swore, irritated others and seemed to hate everyone, including Kass. The British girl wasn't sure what she had done wrong at first, to make Rachel so edgy around her, but in time, she realized it was just Rachel being _Rachel_. That didn't make Kass feel better, but at least it wasn't complicated.

At least the two young women were easy to understand immediately. Barns had fooled her spectacularly with his calm, smiling demeanor. She had expected him to be quite the gentleman all the time. She hadn't expected him to be the second most active prankster of the group, only after Jazz. He was clearly brilliant, but it only took a few days for her to realize that he was probably the most dangerous human in the group. Almost nothing was safe from his discerning eye and willingness to prank. He would even joke around with Vortex, who took it all in stride.

Kass could get used to quirks, she thought. She had enough of her own to make up for everyone else's odd behavior, she was sure, but after several days of being allowed to quietly co-exist alongside the others, she suddenly was open-season.

It started small. Jazz made a teasing comment about how quiet Kass was all the time and some of the others looked amused, agreeing with the sentiment. Kass just looked away and was grateful for Bluestreak, who loved the new company, because he went on a long-winded conversation with Jazz about another quiet mech they'd both known centuries ago. As much as Kass grudgingly acknowledged the fact she was shy around strangers, she would have preferred to avoid that fact being dragged out in front of them.

And then, of course, the incidents grew in size and number. One day, Danny and Rachel came tearing out from behind Kass in a spontaneous race, but it made Kass yell out in surprise. That made the others laugh and they kept bringing it up later unnecessarily. Then, just a few days after that, Kass fell when they were headed down a rather steep hill. Sure, Barns helped her up, but Jazz and Danny had _laughed_. Even Wheeljack chuckled a little.

Then there were the pranks. Stupid, little pranks that reminded her all too much of her younger brother, and not in a good way. Barns stole her cup one day and blamed Rachel until it almost dragged Kass into a confrontation with the blonde girl, and while Kass was sure she could handle a fight or two, there was no way she'd survive a fist fight with that wild woman.

She didn't complain, not even to Bluestreak, for several reasons. Bluestreak really liked it there. He was ecstatic to be close to his own kind for the first time in a very long time. Kass didn't want to ruin it for him. Also, they were just small things. It wasn't like the group was actively trying to _kill_ her or do anything actually malicious. They were just… childish. And embarrassing to her. But she could survive that. She had to.

But that didn't mean she had to like it, though when she finally understood the reasons behind the teasing, it wasn't unbearable.

One evening, Kass had been happy to sit by herself around the fire with a hot drink in hand. That didn't last long, sadly.

"Hey, Kass," Barns began as he walked over to her from across the camp. Kass looked at him warily. He was smiling, which was never a good sign, but she didn't move away. That would be rude.

"Yes?" she asked, hiding behind her cup of tea.

Barns grinned and glanced over the campfire. Across from them, she saw who he was looking at: Jazz and Rachel were seated next to one another and were talking amicably about something. While they might have lacked the closeness Danny and Wheeljack had as child and parent, there was still a clear connection between the two.

"What about them?" Kass prompted, realizing he meant to show her something about those two particular people.

"Want to see how fast she climbs up his back?" Barns abruptly asked, startling Kass. He grinned mischievously.

"Wh-what?"

The other human chuckled. "Rachel doesn't like squirrels," he said, as if that explained everything.

"…Squirrels?" Kass repeated, mind reeling. For starters, from her attitude she had assumed Rachel hated everything – having a specific dislike for squirrels seemed odd. Secondly, she wasn't exactly sure where Barns was going with that line of thought.

Without a word, Barns glanced over at Jazz and Rachel again. Behind them, Kass now saw Wildrider creeping toward them with far more stealth than she had imagined the hyperactive creature to have.

His black hands were strangely, suspiciously cupped around something.

Part of Kass's mind made a little 'Oh' sound while the other part was filled with immediate dread. This was not going to end well.

As her father might have said had he been there, it was like watching an accident in progress; she couldn't look away.

Wildrider glanced over at where Barns and Kass were seated and grinned. Barns gave him a thumbs up and Kass bit her lip. Jazz glanced upward at Wildrider when the other mech stopped.

"What's up, 'Rider?" Jazz asked, not expecting anything. Rachel turned to face him as well.

Wildrider grinned and seemed to lose his semblance of control at that moment. "Look at vhat I found!" he cackled.

And with that he dropped the squirrel straight down on the two seated victims.

Whatever Kass had expected to happen really didn't. Jazz flinched away from the rodent, but didn't seem that upset by it. Rachel? Well, Kass had never expected to hear an effeminate scream come from Rachel. In fact, it never did. All that exploded forth from the blonde's mouth was a symphony of screeching that was far more expectable.

"FUCK! _WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT_? ! _FUCK_!"

And it continued, even as Rachel flung herself away from the poor squirrel and scrambled up onto Jazz's leg. She would have gotten up to his shoulders probably, but Jazz was howling with laughter at the whole thing. Kass stared in shock as Rachel stood on his thigh with a look of horror plastered on her face—that soon grew into a rage once she realized everyone was laughing at her.

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed, glaring up at Wildrider, who was laughing hysterically at his own actions.

The red-and-black mech waved a hand at her. "No, you don't," he replied confidently. He broke into another stream of cackling laughter as Rachel leaped down from Jazz and threw her shoe at Wildrider. He laughed harder once it bounced off his leg without leaving a scratch.

Turning, Rachel saw the other culprit and singled him out with expert skill. "BARNS!" she yelled, accusing. "You little _shit_!"

Barns just cracked up and almost fell off the log. Kass held her tea mug up higher and shrank away from him, desperate not to get caught in the crossfire.

"Stop torturing the wild life," Wheeljack complained, optics narrowed in a frown-like manner. Vortex just ignored everything and Danny rolled her eyes.

Arcee rolled up from behind Barns and Kass and made a sighing sound. "That was uncalled for," she chided. Kass was stunned to see a small smile on her faceplates, however.

"Hey, everyone needs to be picked on or else it gets too boring," Barns shot back cheerfully. He dodged Rachel's angry throw, her other shoe going flying past him. "Hey!"

The rest of the evening was strange and Kass didn't like it. _Everyone_ kept poking fun at Rachel's screaming and freak-out, as they had with her own panic attack weeks ago. While she didn't feel like laughing at someone else, it was almost reassuring in a way that they didn't just pick on the newcomers. Rachel had been around for a while, hadn't she? And apparently she reacted just as strongly as Kass did to teasing, only she got angry instead of quiet.

When a sense of calm had returned to the camp and Kass finally got one of the saner group members alone, she finally figured out what she wanted to ask. Danny had wordlessly started setting her bed up next to Kass, who watched her curiously.

"Do they… tease… everyone?" Kass asked, hesitant.

Danny laughed as she rolled her bedding out with one skillful push. "Oh yeah. We take turns."

Turns? Kass glanced around nervously before looking back at Danny. "Why?" she asked. That didn't make sense. Well, none of it really did.

"'Cause we would kill each other otherwise," Danny replied cheerfully. "At least that's what Jazz says."

None of it made sense and it was mildly frightening. "Right…" she muttered, looking away.

"We tease 'cause we love," Danny continued, grinning boldly. "It means you're part of the family."

Kass stared at her, momentarily stunned. The other girl just smiled, oblivious to the weight of her words. For a good few seconds, Kass didn't know whether to continue to stare like an idiot or to cry.

"Oh," she said quietly. She looked down at her tea and thought.

Oh.

Three months later, when Barns offered her a stick with a string attached to it to target an unsuspecting Danny's bare neck, Kass complied. Not because he asked her too, but because the shriek of outrage and resulting laughter made Kass's heart sing.

Sometimes new was unexpectedly comforting.

 **0000**

"Vortex! You're a flier!"

"Brilliant observation, dumbass."

"That's not very nice. I was curious about your propellers though, but if you're busy—"

"I'm not busy. We're walking up a fragging path on a mountain."

"Oh, well in that case, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Wha—oh! No, that wasn't my question. I was actually going to ask about your Gestalt background. Is it true you're from Bruticus, by the way? I think I fought against you guys before, but I can't remember. A lot of the data I have from the Terranicus moon colony was corrupted, because I accidentally ran into an EMP generator that someone had left out on the battle field and a bunch of my data got corrupted, so I couldn't remember why I ran into it and so it wasn't technically my fault though First Aid was furious and—!"

Turning around swiftly, Vortex glared at Bluestreak so fiercely, the gray colored mech abruptly shut up. Vortex snarled and kept walking up the path and left him standing there in silence.

Bluestreak hung back until Kass had walked up beside him. He looked down at her for support, metal lips resembling more of a human pout than anything robotic.

"I don't think he likes me," he said mournfully.

Kass smiled sympathetically and patted his leg. "He does always seem to be a bit brassed off. Maybe you shouldn't talk to him."

Bluestreak sighed. He liked talking to people. He talked to everyone freely now _except_ Vortex. How could they become friends if they never talked?

"Or try later," Kass amended, her smile almost reluctant now.

Or that. He could wait until later. Friendship didn't build itself after all.

 **0000**

Sometimes, friendship just made itself. Other times, Kass was well aware she had to work for the trust and companionship that came along with the title of friend. She wasn't the type to reach for it, especially not when there were so many extroverted people around, but she soon learned that on even rarer occasions, friends found each other completely by accident.

The day after a drone attack wasn't fun. Everyone was tense and ready for another attack. Kass was still running on adrenaline, because even the most optimistic of their group had to admit it had been a close one.

"You got that one good," someone said to her left.

Turning, Kass was surprised to see Rachel standing there, washcloth and small bowl in hand since she was heading toward the small stream below the camp to wash up.

"What?" Kass asked, surprised the usually sullen girl was speaking to her.

Rachel shrugged, smiling a little. "I saw you take out that one drone that was headed for Danny and Wheeljack. It was a nice move," she said simply.

"Oh." Kass glanced to the side before giving Rachel an awkward smile. "Uh, thanks."

"No prob," Rachel said, waving and disappearing down the small embankment. That was it. Nothing more.

It bewildered Kass. For the first two months of her staying with them, Rachel was one of the more guarded ones. She was never outwardly mean toward Kass, but the dark headed girl always had the feeling Rachel didn't like her.

It happened infrequently, them interacting at first. The next time Kass really noticed something odd was when she almost slipped down a large rock they were fighting to get over. It had just rained and was threatening to do so again soon, so they were trying to get to shelter fast. Kass wasn't about to let Bluestreak pick her up like he wanted to, but she was surprised when a human hand was held out in front of her when she stumbled again.

"The ledge is slippery, so watch your footing," Rachel warned, yanking Kass up by the hand to the higher ledge. She had a strong grip for someone who looked like death warmed over. Then again, _all_ of them looked like that, even the mechs sometimes.

Kass hadn't expected the help. She nodded, feeling awkward and honestly grateful. "Right," she said. Rachel smiled and walked off without another word.

Perhaps she had misjudged the angry woman. Kass was beginning to feel she had missed a crucial part of, well, everything about her newfound friends. Rachel still bit out angry and sarcastic comments, but then there were times the girl just seemed as normal as the people Kass had grown up with. She just had never seen someone use aggression so much for a defense mechanism before. It would have been fascinating to watch from a distance, but it still unnerved her.

Then there were times Kass realized that the blonde fighter wasn't too much older than Kass (Rachel was actually eight months younger) and not only because she sometimes participated in pranks. Her train of thought gave Kass way more insight into the workings of her mind than her aggression did.

"I like your accent," Rachel had said abruptly one morning as they walked through damp woods.

Kass turned to look at her. " _What_?"

"I've met British people before, but I've always liked the sound of you guys talking. Irish is my top favorite, but British isn't too bad," Rachel explained, shrugging. "I kinda wish I had an accent like you or Barns."

For some reason, that made Kass laugh. "Ha! You do," she said, without much thought.

Rachel frowned. "No, I don't."

"You do," Kass replied, shaking her head. She had met Americans before, but hearing Rachel and Danny speak in Americanized English was just as interesting to her as her accent must have been to them. "You can't tell because you're speaking in it, but I can't hear my own 'British' one either."

"Oh…" Rachel blinked, stunned. "Never thought of it like that."

Kass grinned. "You're very American," she offered.

"Well, you're very British," Rachel shot back, smirking.

Kass laughed and that earned her a chuckle from the other girl. They walked on in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Kass kind of liked it.

Her first honest conversation with Rachel happened almost three and half months into her stay with them. It had been unplanned and was stressful while it happened, but in the end Kass was glad to know Rachel better.

She had woken up with a terrible backache and when Rachel had noticed as they hiked along the path, she offered to take Kass's sleeping bag from her back. The mechs carried all of their other supplies, so it was only fair she carried a bit of her own possessions. Kass was surprised by Rachel's offer to take turns with the extra load.

"Thanks," she said, grateful. She took the bag back once she could sit down a few hours later at their evening camp.

"What are friends for?" Rachel had asked sardonically, glancing at her in amusement as she deposited her own bag onto the ground nearby.

Before Kass could even think better of it, she looked at Rachel in surprise. "We're friends?" she asked.

Rachel stared at the girl for a moment—a long moment—before looking away. Then, she got up and walked across the field and disappeared beyond the trees. She only came back when Jazz went looking for her an hour later because he was worried she would miss dinner.

Kass knew she hadn't done anything wrong – she didn't even know what had set the other girl off, but that didn't make her feel any better.

It took her hours to get the nerve to approach Rachel the next day. Weeks before, she would have expected the blonde haired girl to be bitter or angrily reject her presence. Rachel just watched her as carefully as she would any other wild creature in their apocalyptic home. Kass considered herself lucky that Rachel wasn't looking at her like a _drone_.

"I didn't mean that I didn't want to be your friend," Kass said gently, sitting down next to Rachel. They were further from the others at the campfire. Kass went about brewing some tea for them both. It was weak and made from local herbs, but it was still a comfort. "I'd like that a lot."

Rachel was just staring into the fire with a guarded expression. "…I don't have friends," she said after a moment. She just said it as a fact, not something to be pitied. Pity wasn't something a woman like Rachel Cooper wanted or needed.

"Me neither," Kass replied quietly. She looked over at the other girl. They were physically different, mentally and morally different… but Kass could see herself etched into every worried line and every scar that she saw staring back at her. "Well… I guess we both do now."

The logs in the fire popped. Rachel looked back down at them. "Maybe."

Kass sighed and made herself a cup of tea. She glanced over at Rachel, who didn't seem like she was going to be leaving. Reaching out to grab another cup, Kass decided to make her one too.

"I thought you didn't like me," Kass said after a few minutes of just listening to the fire.

That earned her a quick glance. "Why would you think that?" Rachel demanded, her voice heated. Kass knew that didn't mean she was angry, though. For some reason, even before she had mastered the art of speaking the language of the other survivors, she had mastered the art of speaking _Rachel_.

Kass hid her smile expertly. "Well… you're kind of grouchy, no offense," she said, glancing over at the other woman.

Rachel blinked and, surprisingly, smirked. "Heh. I know," she said. "I'm an asshole. That's not easy to change."

"I never said—!" Kass immediately shot back, upset that the girl was saying such a thing about herself.

Holding up a hand, Rachel silenced her. "You don't have to," she said, unapologetic. She shrugged dismissively. "I know I'm not easy to be around. I… have problems."

"We all do," Kass replied gently, smiling. They had all reached the point where Kass was certain they each had some sort of neurotic tendency, perhaps even mental illness. Depression? Oh yeah. She and Rachel were similar in the fact they had trust issues.

"You're just too nice. That's _your_ problem," Rachel shot back, apparently amused again. She shook her head. "You're not used to people as rough as us."

That was true on a lot of levels. But Kass hadn't run away yet. She wasn't planning to. "I can adapt," she replied.

Kass wasn't sure what surprised her more; the nod of agreement or just the trust Rachel seemed to have in Kass' abilities to overcome. "I know you can," the blonde said simply. She didn't have to say it any other way. It had the same effect.

They sat quietly, watching the tea steep. Kass removed the leaves and breathed in the distinct aroma. It reminded her of her mother, but it was also becoming part of a new lifestyle. Rachel looked lost in thought as she stared past the tea and into the fire again.

"I've never had a best mate before," Kass said, watching the other girl carefully.

Rachel stared back and shrugged slightly, the gesture almost unnoticeable. "Me neither," she admitted, though there was more to it than just that. If she ever had friends before meeting this group, Kass would have been surprised.

Kass smiled gently and offered the mug of tea to the other girl. Rachel took it and stared into the dark liquid with an unreadable expression. When she looked back up at Kass, the smile was shakily returned.

 **0000**

Wheeljack wasn't sure what to make of their two new members at first. Kassandra was broken and exhausted when they first met and he didn't expect her to bounce back to any sort of upbeat personality after what she had been forced to go through.

Bluestreak seemed to be just naturally outgoing and more than that, he was eager to please the older transformers in the group. He was the youngest physically but also cognizant of his junior rank in the group, if there was such a thing as rank. He still thought in a military fashion, which was to be expected, so he must have thought he had to follow the others' examples before asserting himself too much. That would be remedied with time, when Bluestreak had the chance to realize their group really didn't have that sort of ranking system. It wasn't a total anarchy—Jazz and Thundercracker were clearly in charge, but that was only when they needed leadership, roughly once or twice a day—during drone attacks and to deal with the aftermath of pranks.

There was no telling what kind of demeanor the very quiet Kass would have, however. Wheeljack was disappointed that the morose look never quite faded from her visage as she and Bluestreak stayed past the first month. She sometimes laughed at jokes and always pulled more than her fair share with the humans' chores. She smiled, but there was always a ghostly aura of sadness to her eyes. Perhaps she had always been this withdrawn.

Wheeljack hoped the more friendly members like Danny or Jazz could drag her out of her shell, however. She startled very easily and that was never a good thing when they had to deal with Wildrider's well-intentioned antics or one of Vortex's aggressive freak-outs when the others pressed him too much.

Vortex was the trigger on the day that Wheeljack realized he wasn't the only one who noticed Kass's insecurities and nervousness around the more volatile group members. He knew Rachel was aware and tried to do damage control a lot of the time, but if she was in the middle of an argument like she was that day, she would forget who was sitting next to her.

"You know what? Fuck off," she shot out, not once intimidated by Vortex or his growing temper. "We did what we could and you know it. Sorry we can't grow freaking bazookas out of our asses like you guys can."

Vortex, who had been complaining very vocally about their most recent fight, scowled at the young woman. While he was extraordinarily patient with the humans on his best days, the aftermath of a difficult fight wasn't the best time to argue with him.

"Your slip up could have gotten one of us slagged," Vortex said, visor narrowing dangerously. He was talking about Rachel's flight suit malfunctioning and then Danny's grenade turned out to be a dud mid-fight. It hadn't ended terribly, but it could have been a better fight overall.

Still, it wasn't right to blame the children for the malfunctions. Wheeljack sighed heavily as the argument jumped back and forth. It would peter out eventually, hopefully without much drama or bloodshed.

"We can fight just fine with our weapons," Kass suddenly said, frowning at the helicopter. Wheeljack was surprised she had spoken up when words were flying as heatedly as they were, but Vortex didn't seem to notice the uniqueness of her adding her commentary to the argument.

"Who asked you, squishy?" Vortex snapped, clearly at the end of his patience.

Kass flinched back, more at the sound of anger than a real fear of the alien hurting her. Wheeljack scowled behind his mask and wanted to chastise Vortex later for threatening their newest human friend, as everyone knew she was easily upset. He didn't want to do it right there, fearing it would only lead to more problems between all of them.

Thankfully, or more so unfortunately, Bluestreak beat him to it on all counts.

"Who asked _YOU_?" Bluestreak shot back, with so much force and anger it nearly made Wheeljack's processors skip.

Kass _stared_ at the other mech with huge eyes. Bluestreak didn't notice, but Wheeljack did. In fact, everyone had stopped and was watching the two mechs face off with varying degrees of shock and mild approval. Even Vortex looked speechless, but only for a moment.

"I wasn't talking to you either, bolt-brain," the helicopter snarled, moving around to face the other Transformer.

Bluestreak _loomed_ from his seated position and his doorwings flared almost completely straight up. "Well, you were talking to Kass and not nicely," he said, a building threat lingering in his generally kind voice. _What on Earth—?_ "It isn't Rachel or Danny's fault that their equipment malfunctioned. And Kass has as much of a right to speak as _YOU_ do!"

Clearly sensing the danger, Jazz practically lunged between them. "A'ight, shut it, both of ya," he ordered. He glared at Vortex particularly. "An' name-callin' is a bit below ya, ain't it, big guy?"

Vortex just sneered and turned away. If he were human, Wheeljack thought the mech would have actually slumped his shoulders. The scientist, bemused, glanced back at Bluestreak and Kass, who were giving each other a look. He grinned to himself. Kass was getting bold enough to speak in defense of herself or others. And Bluestreak…

Bluestreak was comfortable enough to challenge one of the older members in defense of his friend.

Yes, things were improving.

 **0000**

Six months after they had left the caves, Kass's only home, and after they had made contact with the group of survivors, Bluestreak had the time to sit back and think. Rather, lay back and think, but he assumed the humans would have stuck to "sit back" because that was how _they_ always said it, and he wasn't about to ruin a colloquialism. Regardless, it had been a busy time and when he finally realized he had a chance to let his processors catch up, six Earth months had passed. It was rather startling.

Bluestreak loved the new group. They were fun, talkative (mostly) and friendly. He had never dreamed of running into so many Autobots here on Earth and he'd definitely never thought he would find Decepticons who wouldn't try to fight him, but it was a definite improvement. He was making friends with them all, of course with a few rough patches, but they'd overcome that. He hadn't had friends since—well, Kevin, but even before him, it had been a long, long time.

He adored the new humans as well. Danny made him laugh and never told him to shut up. Barns was also patient and fun to be around. Rachel was a bit more of Vortex's temperament, but she was far nicer. She even complimented him on his sniping. Bluestreak was infinitely proud of himself when he realized he was bringing something important to the group. He was important and useful. That's what counted in a group of soldiers after all, and they were all soldiers.

Kass had worried him at first, but she got much better as the days went on. She was as skittish as a protoform around the louder survivors, but Bluestreak tried to be a figure of reassurance for her when it got really bad. He didn't want to say anything too offensive to her, in case she assumed he thought her weak. She wasn't weak. In fact, she was one of the strongest people he had ever met. He still wanted to be there for her when things got rough. She seemed to be thankful for it.

They hadn't talked about it, though, about what they were actually doing there. Bluestreak knew he wanted to stay… forever, if possible. They had a good thing going for them now. But he wasn't sure how Kass was feeling about the whole matter. She seemed happier than ever and she was making friends with the others too.

One cold evening gave Bluestreak the chance to make sure, however, just how comfortable his friend was. He had settled near the humans that night, even though it was his turn to stay up for watch duty. The others trusted him with that role now and it made him smile to know he had succeeded in becoming a companion rather than just someone tagging along.

Kass had moved away from the fire, probably against her better judgment because the fire was warmer. She curled up near him and Bluestreak knew something else was up. They lay there in a comfortable silence for a while, but Bluestreak could practically feel the conversation building up. He wanted to say something _really_ bad, but he let her speak first.

"Blue?" she asked quietly, her whisper barely audible in the cold air.

Bluestreak could hear it perfectly of course. He turned his helm and met her eyes. "Yes, Kass?"

The dark haired girl was lying on her side as she gazed up at him. "Thank you for staying with me," she said after a moment, probably choosing her words carefully. She did that far better than Bluestreak did.

"I wouldn't leave you alone, Kass," he replied immediately, surprised she could even think otherwise. He quickly smiled though.

Kass smiled back. "…Me neither," she admitted, which made Bluestreak smile even more. Kass hesitated. "…I…"

Sometimes people needed to take their time talking, so Bluestreak looked up at the dark sky that was visible between the treetops. He could see far more through the smog than the humans could, but sometimes he liked turning off the advanced visual feed and just look at it, like the humans would. It was smaller, but kind of cozy. Next to him, Kass inhaled deeply.

"I really miss Kevin," she whispered. Bluestreak saw her look up slowly from his chestplates and meet his optics. Hers were sad. "And mum and dad."

Bluestreak frowned with similar emotion. "I miss them too," he said, though mostly he missed Kevin. He wished he had been able to do something that day. He wished he could have kept those humans, if any, safe from harm. That would have been enough for his spark.

Kass sighed and closed her eyes. "…We'll be okay, though," she said quietly.

"You think?" he asked. He wasn't too certain of it himself, but he had hope. He always had hope.

"Yes," Kass replied, opening her eyes. She smiled at him. "They like us, Blue."

It was reassuring to know Kass realized that. Bluestreak had known for weeks. "Yep. And I like them," he said, grinning. He liked them all a lot. Even Vortex.

Kass nodded. "Me too," she admitted softly. Bluestreak knew it was a large step forward for her to acknowledge that.

"Do you want to stay?" he asked finally, knowing that was the question they had both been waiting to hear and answer.

He knew that he wanted to stay; this place was different than the caves or from Cybertron, but… it felt like a home they could grow into, one that they could love. Bluestreak also knew that Kass's happiness mattered more, however; if she left, so would he.

There was a moment of silence. Kass looked at the grass, eyes distant. Then, slowly, she looked back up at him. Her eyes were shining due to the dim light the fire was giving them now, but they were lighter too. Happier.

"Why not?" she asked, smiling.

Bluestreak smiled back. "Okay."

They had welcomed the two wayward survivors into their larger group without a single doubt. They had shared resources with them and fought to protect them just as they did each other. For a group of strangers in an unforgiving land, Bluestreak knew the other nine survivors had given them a wonderful new start at life.

Yes. They could give this a try.

 

 **End** _**New** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Wildrider surprises Barns with a conversation the human wasn't expecting.**


	46. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

Barns took great pleasure in occasionally picking up the Bible and reading it. Even years after the incident with Rachel, he still kept a copy of the Holy Book in his pack, because it meant something to him. It would have broken his Grand-mère's heart to know that he no longer believed God would intervene to save him or his friends (his family really) from the drones, but he had faith that after his passing he would go to Heaven and be reunited with his grandparents. This faith kept his spirits strong and gave him his nearly inexhaustible optimism. Now that he understood Rachel's background better he stayed very quiet about his faith, keeping it in his heart and never trying to convert anyone else. Sometimes Danny read a few chapters or asked him about some detail of the Christian faith in a late night conversation, but that was generally about it.

He'd frequently mused that faith was a funny thing. He'd never found any other subject that would stir a debate (argument, really, when Rachel was involved) as quickly, or cause as much tension within their small group. As he respected his friends, he respected all of their faiths, even Rachel's atheism. But he wasn't willing to make them uncomfortable in order to satisfy his own curiosity about _why_ they believed what they did, so he gleaned what he could from short discussions and casual conversations. Of them all, Danny was the one human he spoke with about faith the most. She had read large portions of the Bible and all of the New Testament and she understood the tenets of his faith, but she didn't seem to find it as compelling as he did. Kass had admitted that her father had been a Christian believer but her mother had not. She herself believed there was a God and not much else.

A few of the mechs apparently believed in a deity they called Primus, though he seemed far more corporeal than the Judeo-Christian one Barns was used to. None of the mechs were particularly emotional about their beliefs, either; it seemed more like a fact of history for them than some sort of spiritual connection. He'd once convinced Wheeljack to tell him their creation story, and Arcee had later told him that the Primes had been their link with Primus, a little bit like a Priest. Vortex had scoffed and commented that it might have been true millions of vorns ago, but not any longer. The discussion had devolved from there.

That was why, years after they formed their group, Barns was astonished when he realized that he had overlooked the only one of the aliens that actually seemed to have a keen interest in the spiritual beyond.

It shocked him more because it was Wildrider.

It turned out that Wildrider had a fascination with religion that Barns really couldn't fathom. The red-and-black mech wasn't insane, no matter what image he tried to project. However, although he was insightful and clever, he was also easily distracted and rarely focused on one topic for more than a few minutes at a time. So it always took Barns by surprise when Wildrider did manage to think about one thing consistently for a long time, maybe even for days, weeks or even months.

Apparently early in his association with their group he took a copy of the Bible from Jazz's archives and read all of it. When they found a Quran in France, Wildrider took that too. He read the Torah, branched out into Norse mythology, and expanded into Hinduism and Buddhism. And then he started to ask questions. He demanded Barns explain stories from the Old Testament and decipher the words of the Gospels in the New. He didn't argue. He didn't try to make fun of anything. He just absorbed the information and moved on to his next question.

At first, Barns thought it was just Wildrider being, well, Wildrider. He wasn't easy to understand by default.

Then, one day in their pathetic version of summer, Barns figured it out.

 **0000**

It was Wildrider's turn to stay up for early watch. Barns had seen him and Bluestreak get ready by moving away from the main group slightly. The humans were just getting changed and moving into their own sleeping positions, but Barns wasn't ready to join them yet.

He had seen Wildrider peering at his Bible all day and knew an unasked question was bubbling up within the mech. Having realized over the past several months that Wildrider's interest in his faith was genuine, he wanted to know what had intrigued him so much.

Without attracting attention to either of them, he slid up beside Wildrider near the edge of the camp they had made in the deep valley. The red-and-black mech turned his head and grinned down at him.

" _Что нового_?" Wildrider asked, Russian strangely fitting his massive form. The alien had a humorous attraction to human behaviour, especially language. Barns was certain Wildrider wouldn't be Wildrider if he didn't have the accent he did.

Barns didn't have to know the Slavic language to get the meaning. "I saw you looking at the Bible earlier," he said, smiling back teasingly.

"Yes." Wildrider rolled his shoulder and peered out at the woods beyond them. He seemed at ease, so whatever the question was probably hadn't been important. "You say it is 'holy day' today?"

"No, no, just a Saint's day," Barns replied, shaking his head. "Just a day to honour a holy person. It's not part of a major aspect of our belief though."

Wildrider nodded, oddly calm. Even the usual twitch he had when he talked was unnoticeable. "I see."

The silence that fell over the pair wasn't entirely comfortable, so Barns stayed seated. He was expecting a typical line of questioning, because that was generally what Wildrider did. Innocent, perhaps humorous, questions were his usual prompts.

As it turned out, Wildrider had other plans for the conversation that Barns wasn't prepared for.

"I like it," Wildrider said suddenly.

Barns looked up at him, surprised. "Huh?"

"Your religion," the mech replied, glancing at him. He grinned, but Barns didn't know why. Not that there was ever a _reason_ for Wildrider to smile, of course.

"…Oh?" Barns began, struggling to get over that admission. He didn't expect any of the mechs to actually like Christianity, which even he had to admit didn't mesh well with their culture. "I thought it would be too illogical for you."

Wildrider laughed. "Oh, no, no, it's stupid," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Completely crazy to think that God would send his son to Earth just so he could die, and then brought him back to life."

Lips threatening to turn upwards into a smirk, Barns nodded and looked away. "…I see," he said, bemused. He didn't mind the critique. Although he saw it as the ultimate act of love and sacrifice he could see why non-believers didn't. Most weren't as openly derogatory, but Wildrider was never one for tact.

"But some concepts? They are acceptable," Wildrider continued unexpectedly. "Logical. More logical than… this." He gestured vaguely at the sky, but then paused, as if noticing he was doing something wrong.

Barns frowned, curious. "What do you mean?" he asked. He knew only parts of the Transformers' religion, but he had never heard one of them compare it to anything on Earth.

Interesting.

Wildrider stared at the surrounding woods as the sounds of the camp began to fade with the dying light in the distance. Barns sat loyally, knowing Wildrider usually needed time to elaborate on his spontaneous comments.

"When mech dies, spark goes to Vell of Sparks, no matter how evil," Wildrider began, speaking strangely… slow. "Even Galvatron goes to Vell."

The Well. Barns remembered that term. It almost reminded him of the Hindu Nirvana. "Oh. I thought there was the Pit," Barns replied, scratching his head. He had assumed the Pit meant Hell for the Transformers. They used it almost interchangeably whenever they cursed. "You know, Hell."

Wildrider shook his head firmly. "No, no, no. Do not confuse two, Barns," he chided. He grinned again, though the gesture was darker now. "Your ideas don't vork vell in ours. Vhen ve die, ve go to Vell. Because that's all there is."

"Then what's the Pit?" Barns asked, now very confused. If they used it as the humans did for exclamations, didn't that mean it meant the same awful place—?

"Unmaker is there. It is his place." Wildrider sat back, red optics narrowed strangely. "Chaos. Real place for living mechs. Not Hell. Not place for dead mechs."

The Unmaker was Unicron, from what Barns remembered. An awful mech, almost like the Devil, but not a supernatural entity. Just… powerful and mean.

"Oh," the human murmured, looking away. It made sense now. What was more curious was why Wildrider had even brought any of this up—

Without any warning, Wildrider chuckled. "But I like Hell," he said casually.

That caught Barns by surprise, sending a chill down his spine. "What?" he asked, stunned. He doubted he had ever—anyone—had ever said that on Earth before.

"I like concept. Your concept, this Hell," Wildrider continued, calmly, as if it weren't shocking. He paused and then shrugged. "It… makes sense."

"How?" Barns asked, more surprised now over the fact that Wildrider was again granting a human religion a compliment. He doubted any of the other Transformers thought the same about any of Earth religions.

Wildrider stared out at nothing for a moment. "…Vhen I die, I go to Vell," he said. He looked down at Barns and pinned him with the most open and unsettling look the human had ever seen the mech wear before. "But if you are right—if squishies are right—I vill go to Hell."

Barns jerked backwards, as if he had been struck. " _What_? !" he exclaimed, mind reeling. He shook his head and forced himself not to overreact. "Rider! _No_ , don't—you won't go to Hell. _Non_."

Wildrider smirked at the sputtering human. "Vhy not?" he challenged, clearly amused by something.

"Because you're not bad," Barns replied. _Dieu_ , a cold sweat had just broken out on his forehead. "You're a _good_ mech, 'Rider." He couldn't stress that enough.

"So I vill go to Heaven?" Wildrider asked, leaning closer. He was still teasing, but it didn't fit him.

Barns stumbled and this gave his stunned mind the chance to catch up. "Uh—I have no idea. I have no idea if I will go to Heaven, 'Rider. That's not up to man to figure out," he replied, frowning.

Wildrider's smirk grew. "Neither is Hell, then, yes?" he asked, _definitely_ teasing now.

Why was he talking about this? Barns felt ill. "Y-you're being silly," he shot back, drawing his legs up to his chest to fight off the feeling. "Only bad, bad, _bad_ people go to Hell. God will forgive anyone who repents, who asks forgiveness for what they've done."

"I don't," Wildrider replied bluntly, almost harshly, and his smile vanished.

Barns blinked. "…What?"

"I don't ask for forgiveness. I don't see point," the mech replied, just as blunt as before, ignoring the almost shocked human's silence. "I killed. So vhat? Vhether it vas bad or good, I still did it. I don't regret. No point in vishing for unchangeable things."

Behind them, the sounds of the fire and few moving occupants of the camp were just a blur in the background for Barns. He just stared at Wildrider and couldn't believe what he was hearing. After what seemed like an eternity, Wildrider's frame creaked. It made Barns think of a human sighing.

"I vonder if it is true, your stories," the mech said, voice soft. It didn't fit his snarling complexion or bright red eyes or armor. "I vould like a god. God seems like better god than Primus or Unicron, even vith flood thing." He turned his head and stared at Barns with open optics. "I vould like there to be a Hell."

"Why?" Barns asked, struggling to comprehend how his friend could even think that.

'Because I don't regret vhat I've done," Wildrider replied simply. "But I vant to."

He sat back further, metal creaking. Barns just looked at him, unable to speak. So many emotions battled for dominance. Sadness clawed at his heart most.

"Because… I vant to be good guy," Wildrider continued, not seeming upset in the least, even though his voice grew quieter and far more fragile than seemed natural for him. "For vonce."

Barns' chest burned. He watched Wildrider calmly look away again, at peace with his own conclusion and statement, oblivious to the effect it had on the human. His ignorance about God's desire to forgive, the acceptance of his own inability to achieve kindness, to be worthy of it in exchange, nearly broke Barns' heart.

Instead of chiding him or giving up, Barns just smiled. "You _are_ , 'Rider," he said, meaning every word. "You are a good guy."

Rough around the edges, perhaps, but they all were anymore. There were no saints now, not in a world like this. But they still could be good. All of them in their group were worth protecting, fighting for—they were all still worthy of _love_.

Wildrider turned and stared at Barns. "…Humans. Always saying good exists," he said after a moment. He smirked, red eyes glinting. "I envy you."

They sat there in silence and Barns wasn't sure what he could do for his friend. Wildrider's dismissal of his own soul's worth was painful. It was worse than Rachel's dismissal of faith all together. Barns could not fathom giving up so strongly on one's own purity.

When he turned and looked at the red-and-black metal creature, Barns couldn't understand why Wildrider could look at himself and see anything but a good, honest friend.

"You think you need Hell to exist in order for Heaven to as well," Barns began carefully, glancing at the mech cautiously. "And if they exist, good and evil do too?"

"Yes," Wildrider replied, considering it. He nodded. "I think so."

Somehow Barns had never expected the meshing of Transformer and human beliefs would have been so detrimental. He didn't think getting into a debate about his beliefs just to prove Wildrider was overthinking it all would help. Wildrider didn't want facts. He just wanted something to help him rationalize his life and actions. If this helped or hindered, Barns couldn't just ask him to ignore it.

"Believe what you need to, Wildrider," Barns said, shaking his head. That was true for all of them. He sighed and then looked back up at his friend. "Just promise me something."

Wildrider tilted his head, considering. "Yes?"

"Don't think you're going to Hell, _d'accord_?" Barns insisted, forcing himself to sound firm and leaving no room for debate. He gave Wildrider a desperate look. "You are a good mech. My God knows this, he sees it. You are a good mech and you are my friend. We love you very much, Wildrider."

If mechs could have been speechless, Wildrider probably would have been. He just peered down at Barns with his glowing optics, probably seeing many other things than just the human man. A shadow of recognition washed over his metal expression.

"Love…" he began, hesitating, "is good." He said it almost as a question.

Barns nodded, smiling gently. "Yes. Yes it is. It is the foundation of everything."

Wildrider stared out at nothing, before nodding and shrugging simultaneously. "Then alright," he said, though Barns wasn't entirely sure what he was agreeing to.

There was no telling what was going on inside Wildrider's processors at any given time. Barns could barely estimate what Wheeljack or Thundercracker were thinking, and they were the calmer, more predictable aliens. But sitting there, Barns realized that perhaps he understood at least one facet to his friend's mental state, which applied to them all.

Everyone needed a belief and something to hold onto, even a mech like Wildrider.

Barns just hoped he had convinced his friend to hold onto something brighter than he had before.

"Where do you think we humans will go, if you mechs are right?" he asked, standing upright, stretching as he did so.

"Eh?" Wildrider frowned down at him in confusion. " _Oh_. You mean like Vell?"

Barns smiled. "Yes."

The mech stared at him for almost a minute. "…No. You go to Heaven," he said, his confidence restored. He grinned—all of his metal fangs resembling _Wildrider_ rather than a monster. "Barns is too nice for any place else."

Barns… wasn't sure what he could even say to that in reply. Words seemed inadequate, compared to the burning sensation of gratitude that overcame any other negative feeling Barns had had in his heart. For a mech like Wildrider, as for many of the others, words did little else but point out obvious, unspoken feelings. Wildrider knew who his friends were.

"Thank you, 'Rider," Barns said instead, peering at his friend and taking in every detail.

The mech's eyes glowed, but never unkindly. "Ngh." Wildrider grinned and leaned back. "Go to bed."

Walking back, Barns left his friend keeping watch. He never once feared any of the mechs would fail in their duty to protect the others. He never doubted that Wildrider, who could live up to his name in the most irritating of ways, would do his job and do it well. Barns believed in many things, like an afterlife and a deity, but some things he knew none of them had to prove. Being Wildrider's friend, and vice-versa, was one of them.

Barns dreamed of a better place that night, with green grass, blazing sun and the warm smiles of his grandparents washing over him.

When he woke up and saw all of the faces that were still there for him, he realized Heaven, and all of its joys, could wait. He had another life to be happy with, for now or forever.

It was enough.

 

* * *

 **End** _**Hell** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: The mechs learn their human friends are squishy. One would think it would be an obvious fact, but some lessons are learned through example…**

  


* * *

  


**  
**

**A/Ns** :  
\- "Что нового?" is Russian for "what's up?" approximately.


	47. Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

Humans were fragile creatures, even compared to many of the life forms from their own planet. Wheeljack had dealt with their fragility for some time, even before he discovered the infant child that fateful day in the wilderness. Raising a child of a different species and massively different size ratio was not an easy task, but Wheeljack had no choice in the end and neither did the baby.

He named her Danielle and after only a month or two in her company, she had successfully won his spark and refused to give it back. In the beginning, caring for her was very difficult, but luckily, she was not as young as he had first assumed. She was small, but clearly not a newborn. Within a few short months she was walking with assistance. By the time Wheeljack was sure she was two years old, she was speaking words and walking short distances unassisted.

Dealing with humans was a learning experience, unfortunately, and sometimes, even a learned mech like Wheeljack suffered from powerful ineptitude.

"Down, down, down down…"

That morning, Wheeljack was grateful for a newfound well of parental patience, only smiling gently and not even sighing, though that had been his normal reaction during the first few experiences. Nearly a year and a half after he'd found her, Danielle was finally learning the English language. Her earliest attempts at speaking had not been in a language he had downloads for—based on geography and the appearance of the humans he had found her with he theorized that they had been Arabic or another Semitic branch—and so her development had not been normal. She understood what he said to her, but until recently she wouldn't speak. Just in the last week she had started to speak in three word sentences, and while she was a brilliant learner, this advancement gave her the opportunity to use her new skills… or abuse them, depending.

"Not now, Danielle," Wheeljack replied calmly, keeping Danielle safe in his hands, as usual. She was not happy to be there, however.

Cheeks puffing out in disappointment, Danielle didn't cry. She only cried when scared or when she was in pain. She had finally gotten bored with her toy, a stuffed representation of a little girl Wheeljack had been given by a kind human in a camp they had encountered by chance a few months ago.

"Want dowwwn," Danielle whined, rolling closer to the edge of his hand. She hung onto the metal fingers that blocked her path and peered out at the ground mournfully.

"Don't go to the edge," Wheeljack said firmly. He didn't have to correct her often, and despite her age, Danielle typically listened very well.

Danielle's lips formed a more defined pout and she whined again, but she sat back obediently. She seemed to understand that Wheeljack's height meant she had to stay in his hand when they were walking. What she wanted to was to walk on her own.

"You can walk around when we stop for your lunch," Wheeljack continued, trying to placate her.

That only made Danielle heave a sigh that had to be too large for her tiny frame. They were almost to the bottom of the hill. If she could just hold on until then, they would be okay. He hoped she wouldn't continue sulking; he was far more prepared to deal with colds than the pouting.

When she tapped his finger insistently, Wheeljack dreaded to look down to acknowledge her apparent request. Danielle peered up at him, frowning, but thankfully in a less upset manner.

"Up," she said, surprising him.

"Up?" Wheeljack repeated, unable not to laugh. She looked at him with eager, hopeful eyes; human optics were incredibly useful for toying with emotions, even his own. "Where up?"

"Up _dere_ ," Danielle replied helpfully, pointing. Her hands and fingers, so small, barely made up a twentieth of his own hand's size. He didn't bother correcting her speech, as she knew it was 'there' but found it difficult to pronounce the 'th' anyway. (Human speech development was fascinating and he enjoyed taking notes on it.)

Where she was pointing made Wheeljack laugh even more. His shoulder wasn't flat like his hands were, but there was significant room for a child Danielle's size to sit. However, it was his shoulder and he had less control over her in case she did accidentally slip off. He could catch her, of course, but that could injure her severely.

"It's a bit too high, Danielle," he said. He grimaced behind his blast mask, however, when Danielle pouted again fiercely.

"Wanna go _high_ ," she said, pleading. "Pease, 'Jack." She stood on shaky legs, so Wheeljack stopped walking. She waddled over to the start of his palm and he brought his hand to his chestplates so she wouldn't accidentally fall forward down his arm. "Up!"

Wheeljack did sigh that time. "Danielle…"

Instantly, the eyes did their worst. Danielle stared up at him with watery, shimmering eyes and for the all of the energon on Cybertron, Wheeljack couldn't fathom why that affected him. Even for an Autobot and the stereotypes they suffered as being saps, this was ridiculous.

"You _cannot_ move around up there," Wheeljack began, regretting it already. Well, he did until Danielle cried in happiness and clapped her hands excitedly.

He couldn't offer her much in terms of physical affection or entertainment, so he was grateful that she wasn't a demanding child. If this gave her some kind of joy, he could tolerate having to watch her more carefully. They were almost to the area he had located on an outdated map, so it wouldn't be dangerous for long.

Gently, he lifted his adopted charge higher and waited patiently for her to clamber onto the other metal surface. His boxy form was a blessing now, as his shoulders were flat enough that the child could sit there cheerfully.

"High!" she cried, elated in a way only a sparkling could be. It was endearing.

Wheeljack smiled, although he couldn't see her clearly. He kept his sensors pinned to her even closer now as they walked through the almost-green woods. They had a good twenty-minutes left before they reached the area he had picked out.

For her part, Danielle obeyed his request to stay seated on his shoulder. She was more interested in the sights from her new towering position, though Wheeljack didn't know why. It wasn't too much higher than his hands. He was more pleased with the fact she would listen to him in the first place. She could be a handful like any child, but on her good days, could be the most conscientious sparkling—

" _BUN_!" Danielle suddenly exclaimed, pointing out to his right.

Without thinking, Wheeljack turned his head and tried to find out what had startled her. In several seconds, he realized two things: one, it had been a rabbit in the brush that had caught her attention. She adored wildlife, so that's why she yelled about seeing it.

The second thing he realized was that his earfins were just low enough on the side of his head to dust over his shoulders when he turned his head—and low enough to send Danielle flying forward into the open air.

Wheeljack didn't hesitate in the slightest and he caught Danielle a second later with his cupped hand. She had yelled out in surprise when the earfin had hit her, but her silence worried him more. Spark thrumming with fear, Wheeljack wanted to scream.

"Oh, _PRIMUS_!" he exclaimed, bringing his hands up to cradle her closer, his optics roving all over her frame. "Danny!"

Danielle had rolled around in his hands from his movements, but when he stopped, she did too. She stared up at him with eyes filled with shock.

"Oh, oh no, oh no," Wheeljack was saying, retracting his mask immediately. His scans didn't come up with any sort of apparent injuries in the child, but what if he broke something— "Danny! Are you alright? !"

"Owww." Danielle whined, her voice just as quiet as usual, but the mere sound of it made Wheeljack wince.

"What's hurt? What's hurting you?" he demanded, worried beyond words. "Is it your head?"

And then, of course, the girl burst into tears.

Wheeljack stood there helpless as the child wailed in his hands. The forest seemed deathly still and quiet in comparison to the drama unfolding. Wheeljack felt absolutely horrid—worse than if he had done any number of horrors the Decepticons or Galvatron had ever done. Danielle was his responsibility—how could he have done this to her?

"Danielle, I cannot help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," he pleaded, desperate. "Does your head hurt?"

Danielle hiccupped and choked out, "No."

"Is it your legs? Or your arms?"

" _No_." Danielle's tears kept flowing, but she stopped the accompanying wail.

"Nothing hurts?" Wheeljack prompted quickly.

Danielle shook her head pitifully and just sniffled. She wiped her eyes with the ball of her palm and looked miserable.

As much as he hated seeing the child upset, Wheeljack felt a chill of relief flood his systems. Perhaps he had just startled her, then. That would be a blessing, considering he had just scared vorns off of his own lifespan.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Danielle," Wheeljack continued, meaning it with all his spark. He physically felt like collapsing from the weight of his guilt now. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Mmhmm." Danielle sniffed again and looked up at her guardian with a sad look. "I fell down."

The way she said that made Wheeljack laugh, even though he was still feeling the aftereffects of probably the most danger-filled moment they had shared in a long time. "Yes, yes you did," he conceded.

For a moment, Danielle just stared at him and then down at his hand. Then, her eyes drifted to the ground. "…Down?" she asked, almost hopeful.

Wheeljack smiled, not bothering to put his mask back. "Yes, Danielle, let's get you down," he said softly.

When they finally got to a safe outcropping of rocks where he felt confident they had enough shelter, Wheeljack let Danielle slide off onto the grass. She sat there for a moment before toddling over to where he put her small bag of belongings. She took her doll with her and sat there holding it for a moment. Wheeljack stood there, feeling strangely out of place.

Just before he started to ask her if she wanted lunch or perhaps something else, Danielle looked up at him with a strangely focused look.

"Danny," she suddenly announced. "I'm _Danny_."

Wheeljack started, confused at the not-yet three year old's declaration. "No, you're…oh," he trailed off, understanding abruptly. He chuckled at her choosing the unexpected nickname over her own. It was easier to say for a child's tongue, he supposed. "If you wish to be called that, that's alright, too."

"Danny," the child repeated. Danny grinned up at him without fear and only self-pride in her expression. "Danny."

A smile found its way onto his faceplates. He wasn't sure why he hadn't expected to be forgiven; his child never saw mistakes. She loved unconditionally. "Okay, Danny."

He could do the same and he did.

 **0000**

The drones attacked, as usual, without much warning. They had just gotten up for breakfast and Jazz had thought the day seemed rather calm. It was misleading, because as soon as he took a cube of energon from Wheeljack's grasp, Bluestreak sounded the alarm. It was like a fire had been lit beneath their very feet; the humans scrambled for cover and weapons, the mechs powered up their canons and melee tools and the weak sun was momentarily blocked by the arrival of a swarm.

While Jazz never underestimated an attack's potential hazards, the fight turned out rather easy for the survivors. There were only a few drones in the pack and Vortex had made a spectacular slicing impact on three of them when they had first surged on their group. Danny got one with Wildrider's help and Jazz knocked a few into Thundercracker's path, which were quickly dealt with.

Kass had wound up next to Jazz during the heat of the fight and when a drone had made a beeline for her, Jazz instinctually grabbed her out of the way. He felt bad in hindsight, because she hated being grabbed up by a mech, even if she had been expecting it. She didn't seem flustered afterward, though, so her adrenaline rush had thankfully overtaken shock of being grabbed up like a feline, otherwise she would have complained.

The fight ended quickly and Jazz was left standing there, taking in quick damage estimates. No one had been seriously injured at first glance and only Wildrider had some lacerations from a drone's serrated limbs. The rush of the fight was still heavy in the air, but Jazz grinned when Thundercracker looked over at him. They were alright.

"Get everythin' t'gether," he called out, glancing around. All of the humans' supplies had been scattered. Hopefully most of it was salvageable. "We're movin' in forty-five."

The humans nodded and got to work over by the fire, where most of their cooking supplies were. Jazz stood back to watch Wheeljack gather up two of the fallen energon cubes, when he noticed something. Jazz frowned as he brought his clawed hand up to his line of sight. A flash of an out of place color had registered in his visor, but when he saw the streak of red on the metal, he was baffled. What could he have touched that would have been red—

All at once, Jazz felt his processors surge and then threaten to overheat.

Blood.

Human blood.

Jazz whipped around, shock surging through his frame, and he desperately tried to keep his panic in check. _Please don't be serious, please don't be serious—_

Kass was back with the other kids by the ruins of their fire, looking just as haggard and out of breath as the others did. She didn't look like she was bleeding out from shrapnel or a broken limb. She sat back against her bag of possessions and seemed rather normal for after a fight. Just dirty, tired and war-weary.

"Kass, you okay?" Barns asked, intercepting Jazz's own inquiry.

Kass grinned over at him. "Yeah, I'm good."

Jazz looked down at his claws again and the blood was still there, so he hadn't imagined it. He walked closer, battle programming still running hot, because he didn't know what was going on. Something was wrong.

"Kass, you're injured," he said, deciding to just get to the facts. Kass looked up in surprise when he spoke, having not seen him approach apparently.

"No, I'm good," she said again.

Jazz frowned and held up his clawed hand. Each finger was dulled, rusted around the edges and ultimately a poor example of Cybertronian armor now, but even through the grime, the red blood stood out. Only Barns, Kass and Arcee were paying attention to them, but all three of them clearly noticed the blood.

"Oh," Kass breathed. She looked down at her chest, eyes wide. "I-I don't—"

"Your leg," Barns said, reaching over. He grabbed at the side of her lower calf, yanking the thin pant material covering it. The moment he did, Jazz could see more blood splattering the blue material. "Ahh, _merde_."

"Ouch," Kass hissed, reaching down to grab her leg away from him. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Arcee demanded, leaning closer. Jazz was grateful she had at least escaped without many new scratches; they needed some of them standing in case the drones returned.

Kass grimaced as she rolled her pant leg up. Doing so revealed two large and potentially deep scratches on the underside of her leg. The bleeding had almost stopped by that point, but from what he knew of human healing, they would most likely scar.

Jazz stared at the injury and felt his panic faded into something far colder.

Those were not scratches from the drones.

"It's not deep," Barns said, smiling sympathetically after he inspected the cuts. "You'll need to wash it and we'll need to make sure you get some antibiotics on there, though."

"Right, right," Kass muttered. She sighed and started to get up. "I should be grateful! Coulda been worse right."

"Indeed."

Jazz ignored them as they went about fetching more water, this time to wash the cut and to get the blood out as much as possible from Kass's clothing. The kids were good with first aid at that point, so it didn't take long for them to get the injury wrapped up, treated with their meager medical supplies and safely bandaged.

What did take Jazz a long time was to stop looking at the blood that remained on him. It was repulsive and not for the germaphobic reasons Vortex or Thundercracker might have. Blood didn't frighten him in an alien way, because he knew blood. He had seen enough of it when he had been with the soldiers. With Mikaela.

 _Drawing back against the broken wall, he stared down at his hands, where, drip-by-drip, his last friend faded away._

Spark shuddering against his plating, Jazz ignored Thundercracker's concerned expression when he almost fell into the creek after the humans had gone back to the camp to recover their things. The blood disappeared into the water, which was already grimy, but Jazz could almost feel it sticking to his claws like some sort of choking rust.

It took him forever to walk up to the campfire again. Everyone was alright. Things were shaken, but not broken. They were okay. Accidents happened, he told himself repeatedly.

Kass was resting when he walked up to her and didn't seem that concerned when he just stood there. Rachel gave him a questioning look, but he waved her away. They had to get moving soon. Staying still after an attack wasn't good.

Jazz didn't say anything, however, while the others packed up. Kass finally packed away all of the scattered cooking items and didn't have problems using her legs for moving away, even though she was clearly favoring the injured one.

"I did that," Jazz said, when Kass finally looked up and seemed to wait for a response from him.

The human looked surprised, but after she followed his visor down to her exposed leg, with the pants still rolled up to the knee, she laughed. Jazz wasn't surprised she would laugh over it, but it still made his spark twist uncomfortably.

"You probably saved my life, Jazz. Thank you," she said, smiling gently. She sat back with a content expression. "I can live with a few scratches."

That was comforting and yet… not. "Right," Jazz muttered, glancing upwards. He felt guilty, despite the illogic of feeling that way. It hadn't been intentional, after all.

"Accidents happen, mate," Kass said, catching his attention again. She shook her dark head and grinned again. "Don't let it get to you. It's all fine."

Jazz smiled back, the pressure on his spark releasing slightly. He wondered if that was what holding one's breath felt like. "Sorry," he offered, meaning it. He flexed his claws at his side almost instinctually before he stopped, feeling awkward. "I'll be more gentle next time."

That only earned him a friendly laugh. "Just don't miss next time. That's all I ask, Jazz," Kass said. There was no forgiveness in her voice or eyes, not because she didn't forgive the accident, but because she didn't think the incident warranted one. Because just like the other humans in their midst, this child probably didn't have a mean or selfish bone in her body.

Humans could humble him in ways Jazz sometimes couldn't fathom. He grinned back anyway.

"I won't," he promised.

Accidents were forgivable, but missing wasn't. He would never miss protecting one of his friends—because the drones would have to kill him first before he allowed it.

 **0000**

Wildrider liked all of his human friends, but Danny was his favorite. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to have favorites of anything (he certainly never had a favorite brother when all of them were connected so intricately) but since he no longer had to worry about keeping things equal in a bond, he felt like he was allowed to entertain the idea of having personal choices. Like Arcee. She was his favorite Transformer, at least on most days. Sometimes Bluestreak was an amusing second.

But Danny was special for a human. She was small, and he generally didn't like small things, but she made up for it by being… Danny.

She laughed with him, at his jokes. She stood up for him. She enjoyed his stories and never minded the gore they held in them. Danny was also _Danny_ and that was most important.

Some days, she clearly stood out from the other humans. He liked them all, of course, with Rachel being so funny, Barns so kind and Kass so gullible, but it was clear Danny was superior.

That day, it was because Danny had come to him with a great idea. A fun idea. Wheeljack scowled and made all sorts of noises of disagreement, but neither Danny nor Wildrider would let that stop them.

After they had discovered the Super Awesome Hood Technique (Danny's wording), Wildrider was quite excited to expand on the maneuver. It wasn't often he could enjoy an activity with one of his human friends. They were small. And squishy. Also off-limits because Wheeljack would have killed Wildrider himself if he ever purposely hurt one of the humans. Not that Wildrider would. That wouldn't be as much fun as playing with Danny like this.

She thought it was warrior's training and Wildrider almost could believe it. They lacked the area to fight the drones like this, with the woods keeping Wildrider from using his vehicle mode, but training with anyone for anything was nostalgic. He used to train with his brothers. Fighting alongside the other survivors now was nice, but actually using combined attacks… was like a human dream from a long time ago.

"Let's do it!" Danny cried, after yanking on the gloves Wheeljack had given her.

They were supposed to help her keep traction on Wildrider's roof. He personally didn't see the point, as he had added a handle to the top of himself by shifting several metal strips around in his transformation sequence. Wheeljack had made several amusing noises and gestures after he learned Wildrider had made corrections to his own transformation sequence coding, but Wildrider didn't care. This was going to be _fun_.

"How fast now?" Wildrider asked, transforming. Danny _sshed_ him with a finger over her lips, because if Wheeljack caught them trying to practice driving out of his sight, he'd get upset. He was busy with the energon converter now, though. They had time.

"Not too much faster," Danny replied. She climbed onto his back in a fearless manner that Wildrider assumed he was supposed to be insulted by, but really, it made him feel lighter.

It was too easy to gun his engine and fly across the remarkably flat land they had found just south of their camp. Wildrider kept his focus on the sky, as usual, for drones, but it felt so fragging good to just let himself drift like he had been built to.

"Whoo!" Danny cried, as he skid to a stop. They were practicing keeping her on top of the car's roof. After that, they would practice Danny's skill at using a weapon from up there. Wildrider wasn't sure how accurate she would be, but it was fun.

Turning, engine throbbing, Wildrider set his sights on the other end of the field where the hill started back up. His tires tore through the broken, hideous earth and they were surging forward. For a moment in time, Wildrider felt at peace, if there were ever such a thing left in the universe. He had a friend trusting him and playing with him— _he had a_ _ **friend**_ —and he could be himself. What could possibly have been wrong about—

Wildrider screeched to another stop and suddenly, everything went wrong.

Danny was suddenly not on the top of the car approximately five seconds after he began to slide to a stop. He had not been going fast—perhaps sixty kilometers per hour—because of the short distance, but any kind of speed was a lot after being forced to walk around everywhere. Wildrider wasn't sure what exactly went wrong. Maybe she let go. Maybe her grip weakened over the handle.

Regardless, she was still flung off the car and before Wildrider could even think, she flew straight into one of the rocks embedded on the hill.

Everything stopped. Almost. Wildrider felt his engine sizzling, gears rubbing against each other and his spark searing deep within his transformed chassis. Danny rolled away from the rock with a cry and scrambled upright before she fell against the rock, clutching her arm tightly.

Suddenly, everything was not fine.

"Danny?" Wildrider asked, now alarmed. He felt the first twinges of _nononoImessedupagain_ surge in his spark. He transformed immediately and walked over, steps almost supernaturally loud in the field.

Danny was sitting up now and clutching her head with a pained look. Wildrider whined at the sight; pain in his smaller friends wasn't nice. It wasn't _right_.

"Danny?" he asked again.

"Ow, shit, that hurt," Danny muttered, dropping her hand from her head. She flexed her fingers. "Ouch."

Danny _never_ cursed, even when she was really mad. Wildrider heard his entire frame twitching, even if he could feeling the sensations really. He didn't want to crouch down, despite fighting the urge to grab Danny up and run her back to the other mechs who knew how to handle the squishies.

"Vhat is wrong?" he demanded instead. He knew he was yelling, though not in anger. He was scared.

"I hit the rock. My arm did at least," Danny said, gritting her teeth. She closed her eyes too, which didn't seem right. "I don't think it's broken, but my head's ringing. Ow."

Wildrider stared at her, processors fluctuating. "Ringing?" he repeated. _Ringing_? Since when did squishies ring? They didn't have metal parts or computers inside them. They were not supposed to _ring_.

So, he did what he assumed was the proper reaction.

He called Wheeljack.

 _::VHEELJACK!::_ he screeched over the intercom, not caring if a drone picked up the frequency. He'd tear to pieces anything that came near that wasn't friendly.

Wheeljack didn't sound happy. : _:_ Primus _—yes, Wildrider?:_ :

 _::Danny! Come now!::_ Wildrider shot back, not bothering for coherency. It was too dire a circumstance for that.

The scientist never failed to care about his adopted kin. It was his greatest weakness, one Wildrider would never exploit. _::What? What's the matter with Danny?::_ Wheeljack demanded. Wildrider looked to where the camp was, knowing the Autobot was on his way now.

 _::She flew off hood and hit rock and she said head's ringing, but humans don't have metal, so something is wrong, and her arm hurts::_ Wildrider shot back, not caring if he sounded like Bluestreak. Danny was in trouble. _::Get over here!::_

 _::I'll be right there, Wildrider._ Don't _move her.::_

Wildrider gnashed his teeth, saying nothing, even though he was tempted to ask why Wheeljack thought that little of his intelligence. Of course he wasn't going to move her! Danny was still on the ground and there was no way Wildrider was going to touch her now. The image of her exploding into a million pieces was never far from his mind because that's what he did—he destroyed things—and Danny was destroyable, just like all of the humans, weak breakable things—

He almost didn't feel Wheeljack come marching up from the path that led back to the camp. Wildrider jumped backwards to let the hurried scientist get closer to Danny, who looked up at him hesitantly.

"Tell me everything that hurts, Danielle," Wheeljack said quickly, crouching low to reach the woman.

"My elbow hurts," Danny muttered, holding it out for inspection. Wheeljack's optics flashed brightly as he scanned her for damages. Wildrider hung back, watching fearfully. He waited for bad news.

Wheeljack made a sound of disapproval and moved the arm. "Nothing broken. Bruised ulnar nerve," he said.

"Funny bone…" Danny repeated, removing her arm from his gentle grasp. She rubbed her elbow awkwardly and sighed. "My head hurts, but I think I just scared myself."

Using his finger to push her head up more to face him directly, Wheeljack scanned her face. "Your pupils are a little dilated. You have a concussion," he concluded after a moment.

Danny's face fell. "Awww, man." Wildrider whined and tried to come up with an explanation for what concussed meant. He had never heard that before. Did that mean her eyes were broken?

"What's wrong?" he heard someone ask. Turning, he saw Barns and Kass were walking up, Jazz not that far behind.

"Danny has a concussion," Wheeljack said, sitting back slightly. He sighed in a human way. "Mild, but still."

"And I hit my funny bone," Danny added, frowning deeply. She was still sitting on the ground, which was probably more concerning than anything else.

Kass, looking as alarmed as Wheeljack had been, started. "What were you even—oh, for the love of!" she blurted out, turning around to see Wildrider standing there. She glared at him. "You two were practicing that ridiculous driving thing, _weren't_ you?"

Wildrider flinched backwards under the heated look and felt a strange sensation of guilt flood his processors. Danny also looked cowed. "Yes…" she said, trailing off awkwardly.

"Danny vill be alright?" Wildrider asked Wheeljack, twitching more under Kass and Jazz's disapproving frowns.

"We'll have to monitor the concussion, but most likely yes," Wheeljack said, standing up. He turned around completely and fixed the red-and-black mech with a severe look, one that made Wildrider's spark hurt. The scientist _never_ looked at him that way. "Wildrider. I don't think I need to tell you how foolish this was."

Apologies and guilt did not work for Wildrider. It wasn't like him to experience or show either. But almost without his permission, they bubbled over. "I am sorry," he said, looking away. He didn't know where to put his optics; everyone was making him nervous.

"It's my fault, too," Danny added quickly. She smiled weakly at her mentor. " _We're_ sorry, Wheeljack."

She could have easily let Wildrider take the blame; Wildrider knew his words would never be worth more than a human's to the others, but he didn't have to worry about that being a problem. Because Danny was his _friend_.

Wheeljack sighed a long-suffering sound. "I cannot stop you from doing what you want to do, but _please_ , at least do this near the others so we can intercede if something like this happens again," he replied, glancing between Wildrider and Danny with the same worried, but serious look. He was a caregiver at spark, even more than just being an Autobot.

In the end, Danny had to stay in the camp and be under constant supervision from at least one of the more medically skilled survivors for the rest of the night and way into the next day. "Concussions" were serious business, according to Wheeljack, and while it didn't mean she was dying or even close to death, it could seriously harm Danny if left untreated. Wildrider didn't understand that, considering they weren't doing anything to _treat_ the problem, other than waking her up every few hours and checking her eyes. He trusted Wheeljack though, not to let his tiny friend die.

Wildrider for his part stayed at a decent length away from Danny as she healed. He felt nervous, well more nervous than usual, whenever he glanced at her. It was silly and he knew it. She should have had a stronger grip and it wasn't like she had been damaged irrevocably by the accident.

…Only, Wildrider's processors traitorously pointed out, it could have gone horribly wrong and she could have died. Offlined, forever.

That was not acceptable. Ever.

Two nights later, Wildrider learned again that his once advanced senses had dulled in the course of the last week obviously, because he didn't even feel Danny creep up beside him until she sat down with a small grunt onto the ground. He peered down at her, spark yanking the other way. He thought about literally getting up, but when he looked over to the only unoccupied sections he could escape to and the human couldn't follow, Bluestreak pointedly moved over and blocked it on purpose.

Wildrider scowled. _Traitor_. Bluestreak just smiled cheerfully. He was no longer Wildrider's favorite that day.

Danny sighed heavily, drawing his attention downwards again. "I'm sorry, 'Rider. I should have held on," she said, smiling apologetically, as if it was all her fault. Wildrider wanted to believe that, but couldn't.

"Hnnh." Wildrider looked away and tried to focus on counting the various burn marks on the tree across from them. Danny's breath and smaller movements wouldn't let him, though, not for long.

They sat there for several minutes and Wildrider almost— _almost_ —felt better. He didn't hold onto regret. It wasn't him. He never had regrets.

Clearing her throat, Danny got him to look down again. Her eyes were bright and 'un-concussed' now. "We can try again next week. Slower?" she offered, grinning.

For the life of him, Wildrider wanted to scream. Why? Why was she asking that? Was she stupid? Everyone called _him_ dumb, but the humans—they learned nothing from their failings, or that's what it seemed like.

More than anything, he could not help the image of a worse scenario reappearing inside his processors—one where he drives too fast, Danny falls too hard—and everything is grief.

"No," he said shortly. Danny looked up at him in shock, but Wildrider continued with a shrug. He wasn't sure why he was saying no, but he wanted to. It didn't _feel_ right. "Not… yet."

The look of surprise faded quickly from Danny's face. "Okay," she said, her grin stronger. She reached out and held a tiny, tiny fist in the air for him. "We can take our time, buddy."

 _Buddy_ meant friend. Friend… meant something. It did. Wildrider reached out and let her tap her fragile, warm knuckle against his metal one.

"Yes."

He could wait forever, in that case.

 **0000**

Mountains were often their friends, providing camouflage and protection, both from the drones and the elements. But when the weather didn't threaten and the drones weren't overly aggressive, they were just another challenge to deal with, at least for Vortex. He could have flown up their steep sides, but he had to keep pace with the other survivors. He barely chafed at the irritation anymore.

On other days, however, the mountains rejected them. Fiercely.

Vortex had been walking toward the rear of their group when they reached a particular bend in the path that got too narrow for comfort, at least for the mechs. The humans weren't that happy with either the height or the loose rocks that made up the sides. They pressed onward, because a storm was definitely on the horizon and they had to get to the cavern Wheeljack's sensors had picked up earlier. They were almost there, just an hour away at best.

There was a crack and the sound of gravel falling—lots of it. Vortex looked upward instinctually, but there was nothing there. Then he heard one of the humans shout. Barns.

" _Barns_!" Arcee yelled, being the closest to the human—but too far to reach him. Vortex had looked over just in time to see the boy disappear down the side of the incline, the crashing of bushes the only real sound to show for it. Where the boy had been standing was now caved in, a weak spot in the path none of the others had had the misfortune of finding earlier.

Vortex found himself looming over the edge far faster than he thought was acceptable, but his sensors were already seeking out the familiar heat signature. The incline was tall with several outcroppings and overgrown trees. He saw Barns skid to a stop at the bottom of the ravine; he rolled over on his own, clearly alive, but equally clearly unable to get up the hill on his own.

"Vortex," Jazz began, looking over at the helicopter with an urgent look.

With only a nod, Vortex transformed and flew down to the bottom of the ravine. He was the only one who could get down there quickly, he rationalized, and if he didn't fetch the boy, they'd be stuck there until they found some other way to get him out. It was a benefit for all of them to end the drama quicker this way.

He transformed before he landed and the echoing sound of hydraulics filled the ravine. Vortex found Barns sitting up against a tree trunk, grasping his leg. He had a contorted look on his face; it was alien compared to the genial and friendly expressions the boy always wore.

"What's wrong with you?" Vortex demanded as he walked closer, not minding the harshness of his words. Not that it mattered. Barns was already wincing in pain.

"My foot," Barns hissed. He reached down and pulled up his pant leg. The skin near the top of his shoe was bright red, which was abnormal. Barns grimaced, not touching the area. " _Merde. C'est fait mal. Un_ _entorse de la cheville_."

Vortex hated it when the boy used French. Unlike most of his fellow Transformers, Vortex only knew one of Earth's various languages—English. Jazz knew all of them, seemingly, and Thundercracker and Wheeljack knew several. Arcee knew two others, Cantonese and Mandarin Chinese. Hell, even Wildrider knew Russian. Only Bluestreak was also monolingual, but being compared to that idiot was not Vortex's idea of a good thing.

"What?" Vortex snapped, not sure if he could even analyze the injury on his own. He didn't have medical scanners like Wheeljack did, as pitiful as they were.

That earned him a strained, but patient laugh. Barns shook his head, brown hair expelling the leaves and dirt it had picked up from his trip down to the ravine. "Sprained ankle, Vortex," he replied, smiling tightly. "I cannot stand or walk on this."

Vortex had no idea what to expect from human frames. They were weaker on all accounts, but just what one injury meant compared to ones he understood wasn't clear most of the time. "Broken strut…?" he began, before he realized it.

" _Non_ , sprained," Barns replied anyway. He looked thoughtful before chuckling. "Heh. Damaged cable, temporarily offline."

That… sort of made sense. "Oh," Vortex said. Above them, the others were clamoring, so he reached out and grabbed the boy under the arms, startling him. "Let's go."

When they got back to the top, Vortex wanted to drop Barns back onto the group, but just before he did, he realized that would be a mistake. One, because the boy had just admitted he couldn't stand. Two, because the entire side of the mountain was unstable apparently. They had to move.

Jazz hurried them along to the top and there weren't any more unstable ledges, thankfully. Vortex was irritated because that left him carrying Barns in his hands. He didn't want to—but that didn't stop him from cradling the injured boy carefully. Dropping him or aggravating the injury more was ridiculous after going out of his way to help the human after all.

The walk took far too long, or at least it seemed that way. When they finally got to the cavern, Barns was a weight to carry and not in a physical way. Vortex heard every pained hiss and felt every awkward attempt to move to a less-injured side. Apparently the fall had earned him some bruises too. Great.

"What's the matter, Barns?" Wheeljack demanded once they had the room and calm to actually face each other. Vortex deposited the boy down on the ground near the other humans, gently.

"Sprained my ankle," he answered, gesturing at his foot. Danny was helping him take the shoe off and once it was off, they could all see the swelled limb. To Vortex, it was disgusting.

"Ouch. Sucks, man," Rachel said, grimacing. She offered her hand and helped the taller human up, though he was forced to lean on her shoulder. "You're gonna have to take a mech taxi for now."

Barns sighed heavily, looking grim. "Yes. I cannot walk like this."

Moving away, Vortex let the others handle the matter. There wasn't much they could do, in the end, which was unfortunate because he assumed they'd be held back for a few days due to not being able to move far. However, the storm they had been expecting blew over rather quickly and, when the weather was good, they _had_ to move.

That of course led to the question of how Barns was going to be carried. The only ones big enough to handle him comfortably were Thundercracker, Vortex and Wheeljack. Both the jet and scientist would have offered, but a stray thought hit Vortex in the middle of the conversation.

Before he had the sense to think twice, Vortex offered a hand to the boy. "I'll take him," he said gruffly.

"Vortex…" Barns stared at him, stunned, the others' expressions similar. He smiled, though, as he let the helicopter pick him up. "Thanks."

Vortex refused to accept any gratitude, especially when the others were watching. "Ngh."

The injury lasted more than a week and vaguely Vortex wondered why he continued to humor the child and put up with the bemused smiles Wheeljack and Jazz sent him. No one said anything, though, at least not to his faceplates. While the logical side of him critiqued his behavior for them, the side Vortex knew had been infected by the humans somehow had more power here.

There was a reason why and after a week of cradling the human in his grasp, Vortex couldn't ignore it.

He owed Barnaby Rancourt his life.

If Vortex had not saved Barns' life that day with the cannibals in the woods, he never could have gotten closer to the other survivors. And he most surely would have been killed by the drones or starvation by that point. Barns and Goddard had given him a chance to survive as well as grow.

More than that… he had been the one to find Barns and Goddard first. Goddard had fallen, but Barns was still there and—

For some odd reason, Vortex felt a strange sense of obligation to the boy because of that. It only took a few days for them to run into the others, but he had been there first. They had been the first non-mech, non-lethal contact he had had in decades.

They had been the first creatures in existence, even amongst his brothers, that looked at him with gratitude rather than fear. That meant…more than Vortex had ever expected it to.

The Autobot-like sentimentality was enough to make his spark squirm. But the feeling never faded. He decided to ignore it.

"How you humans survived evolution I have no idea," he growled out, startling the boy as they walked further through the mountain valley. Barns looked up at him, craning his neck to do so.

"We aren't that sure either," Barns said, chuckling in his usual manner. "But I personally will take what I can get."

Vortex rumbled lowly and looked up at the horizon. "Yes."

" _I wanted to know_ ," he had said in reply to Thundercracker, almost seven years ago. " _What would happen if I did what you did, protect instead of destroy_."

He couldn't see it at the time, what had happened at that moment when he valued another life as much as he valued his own. At first, it had been nothing.

Thundercracker had leaned down with a pitiless glare. _"Just wait until they save you_ ," he'd said, either as an assurance or a warning; he couldn't tell. "Then _something happens_."

" _…What_?" Vortex had asked.

" _Trust_."

How he came to possess that trust—from others in himself or from himself in others—Vortex blamed it on Earth and its corruptive influence. He never wanted to look at an organic and feel the need to protect. It wasn't right. It wasn't natural.

But that didn't stop him from clutching the boy close and carrying him onward. It didn't hurt him to do that. He was helping himself by doing this and more than anything—

It felt right.

Gentle hands placed the boy back on his feet when he was ready to walk on his own again. Vortex stood back and watched. If accidents happened, they happened. They'd all be ready for them and be ready to pick up the slack an injured teammate dropped. That's what mattered. That's all that mattered, anymore.

 

 **End** _**Gentle** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: The survivors play a game. A game we've all played at one point or another. The mountain might not survive.**


	48. Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _July 2052_

It was summer, according to the now-antiquated calendars Thundercracker had swiped from Jazz. The weather certainly was warmer than the winter months, but every day was gray and cloudy on Earth. Sometimes it was an orangey-brown color, but gray was a safer color. Regardless, with warmer weather came better food supplies, for both mech and human alike, and that always raised spirits.

However, after several weeks of watching the humans experience what Jazz called a delayed "Spring Fever", Thundercracker had begun to wish for cooler weather. He didn't mind the humans playing games amongst themselves. He could even tolerate them trying to drag the mechs into it, though having Wildrider and the clumsy Bluestreak involved in anything too complex generally spelt disaster. What Thundercracker honestly couldn't stand was when the games suddenly became insufficient to hold off the inescapable and unforgiving disease of _boredom_.

"I'm _bored_ ," Danny whined the moment the group sat down to rest for the night. It was still light out, even with the clouds and grime, so the energy the organics accumulated during the daylight hours hadn't faded yet.

"Same," Barns said. He had begun to set up the fire as Kass pulled out three jars of cold soup they had made earlier that morning. It wouldn't take long to heat the food up, which was bad in Thundercracker's book, because that gave them all more time to deal with.

"Well, we have about an hour of daylight left," Jazz said, unhelpfully. He grinned as he sat down with a cube of energon. "Play a game."

That was where the problem was. Thundercracker sighed quietly to himself as Danny frowned and the other humans also looked unhappy. The weather had backstabbed them once again, only this time, it was so nice that they had been unwilling or unable to do quieter activities like reading. No, their seemingly boundless energy had caused them to play every game they knew that week. Thundercracker knew this was fact, not hyperbole, because they had played every single game that was listed in his database of activities—the one he had started three weeks after meeting Rachel and being introduced to the game of Hide-and-Seek. There was no game unused (except the banned ones), and if the humans didn't find something to keep them occupied, they'd probably go insane by the end of the week. If they kept whining, _he'd_ go insane by the end of the week.

"I want to play with everyone," Danny continued, pouting. She was over twenty and still had the almost bewitching power of a child to make people feel bad for no reason at all. Thundercracker averted his optics.

Wheeljack, despite the pout, chuckled. "Danny, we don't have many options when it comes to that. You know that," he said gently.

"I know…" Danny sighed. She glanced around their camp. "What about baseball?"

'Baseball' was not Thundercracker's favorite game. Jazz didn't like it either, only because they had had to "mutilate" the original game from the Americas into an apparently different version in order for all of their group to be able to play. The humans split into two teams and the mechs joined either team. The kids hit the ball Barns had found and then the mechs caught it before tossing it back to tag the hitter out if they didn't get to the base fast enough. Thundercracker didn't like the game because he had often been hit with the tiny, but heavy ball, even when he wasn't playing.

Luckily, Barns vetoed the idea. "Too many rocks," he said, gesturing at the mountainous area around them.

"No baseball then," Rachel concluded, shrugging. She didn't mind missing out, Thundercracker assumed; she wasn't that good at hitting the ball on her turn.

"We could try tag…" Kass suggested awkwardly. Thundercracker winced; another least favorite on his part.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. "Because that went so freaking well last time," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"No von got hurt!" Wildrider shot back, grinning. _He_ liked tag.

"Bluestreak almost crushed Danny," Wheeljack said. Behind his mask, he was most likely frowning.

Bluestreak looked scandalized. "It was an accident!" he exclaimed.

Danny sighed, smiling at him. "We know Blue," she said, always forgiving.

The humans didn't look content as they ate their dinner and Thundercracker didn't know if anything could help the situation. He had never expected to have to come up with ways to entertain a group of juveniles (human or not) before, but humans had far more requirements than just food or shelter. Also, keeping them happy kept everyone in a better mood. The jet frowned as he observed the unhappy humans; this had to be rectified.

Unfortunately, help came from one of the organics. "…Hmm," Kass suddenly murmured, as she stood to place her bowl aside.

"What, Kass?" Arcee asked, looking at her curiously. Everyone turned or looked down at the human.

"I… might have an idea," the dark haired human replied, looking hesitant. She did smile, however, when she gestured over at the large rocks near the camp. "Do you think those rocks are big enough to hold all you big guys?"

"Maybe," Jazz said, intrigued. "…Why?"

"I think I have a game we can all play," she said brightly, looking around the camp at them.

Thundercracker frowned deeply. They had very few options when it came to interspecies games and they had already used those up. "Impossible," he said.

"No… really!" Kass said, grinning now. She seemed pleased with whatever idea she had come up with. "This might work!"

Bluestreak tilted his helm, exchanging a curious look with Wheeljack. "What game?" he asked. Wildrider also leaned closer, eager to hear a better idea than charades or something mundane.

"The floor is lava!" Kass said so simply and so cheerfully, it was almost surreal.

Everyone paused, though the humans recovered far quicker than the Transformers did. Thundercracker stared at Kass in mild confusion. He knew what the definition of lava was and he knew it had nothing to do with where they were currently camping. Also, it didn't seem like a very fun object to have in a game. Part of him hoped the mystery would remain, because an explanation could be disastrous for his sanity, but the universe wasn't going to be merciful to him that day.

" _Whaaat_?" Jazz asked, smiling despite his confusion. Only Wildrider seemed interested; the other Transformers looked vaguely horrified, clearly knowing what lava was.

"Yeah!" Rachel suddenly said. She looked excited. "I remember playing that at a camp before!"

"What is it?" Danny asked, just as bewildered as the mechs.

"Ahhh, I remember this," Barns said, touching his fingers to his chin. He grinned. "It's quite simple."

Kass nodded and stood up. "The rules are simple," she began, looking around at the others. "No touching or roughhousing involved. In fact, if you push anyone off the rocks, you immediately get sacrificed to the lava god who demands human—er, living sacrifices."

Jazz laughed while the others looked startled. "Whoa, what?" Rachel asked, bewildered now. "What lava god?"

"I don't know, I read that gods live in volcanoes sometimes. Anyway!" Kass crossed her arms against her chest. "The aim of the game is to keep moving around the room, well, area here, and not touch the ground ever." Turning, she pointed up at the large boulders that were poised over their camp. "These rocks are the only thing you're allowed to touch. See? They go all the way up this part of the hill."

"Stay on the rocks. Got it," Wildrider said, clearly won over, even though none of it made sense.

"Wait, but…" Bluestreak was still struggling to keep up like the rest of the mechs, but at least he tried to comprehend. "Why?"

Kass pointed at the ground. "The ground is 'lava.' It's a no-go area. Don't let any of your body touch it, okay?" she asked.

The gray mech frowned, his doorwings slightly drooping. "…Oh." They went back up, however, once he stood up to join the humans by the rocks.

"It's a silly game, but let's do it!" Kass said, trying to be encouraging. Most likely she had the same feelings Thundercracker did about games; they were necessary to keep the morale of the group up. "It'll give us something to do. Everyone—on the rocks!"

It was amusing to see Kass, of all the humans, ordering them around. That was probably why Thundercracker got up in the first place and walked over to the rocks. Wheeljack was very hesitant to join in; he and Thundercracker were enormous, even compared to the other mechs. Having them all in one place, so close to the squishable humans, was dangerous.

But the rock field, as it turned out, was almost too ideal. There were large ones and smaller ones, the latter useful to get the mechs up there to begin with. Even Arcee could get up on her own. Once up there, Thundercracker was pleased that many of the towering oaks in the old forest they were in still gave them decent cover, plus the mountains added their protection.

Reluctantly, he stood waiting for further instructions. Maybe it wouldn't take long for the others to get bored or the fun to run out.

"Alright, the game is on!" Danny exclaimed, after she had quickly learned the rules from the other humans. She caught on much faster than the mechs did, for some human reason most likely.

"What d' we do?" Jazz asked, amused. The Transformers stood by, most with expressions of trepidation.

"Keep moving," Kass explained. She suddenly moved back several feet on the boulder she was standing on with Barns and Rachel. "Like this!"

She took off running and, right before she reached the edge of the rock, leaped into the air. She landed smoothly on the other rock and turned around.

"Not so bad for us humans, so it should be easy for you guys," she said, grinning. She gave them a thumbs up and was soon joined by Rachel and Barns.

It would be easy for the mechs, Thundercracker conceded, at least for the larger ones. Some of the boulders did have larger gaps between them, however, and not all of them were equal in height. Potentially, he could slip, but he doubted it.

"I hate how tall these are," Danny whimpered, glancing over the edge. It was a good five foot drop, but to a small woman like her, it must have seemed like a larger drop.

"Perhaps this is too simple for us mechs…" Wheeljack said with a laugh as he and Thundercracker simply walked from one boulder to another.

Arcee, strangely enough, looked bemused. "I can't jump," she said, doing the mech version of a shrug.

"I bet you could if you got some air behind you, Arcee," Barns said helpfully, waving at her from across two rocks. The humans were having the most fun, despite being smaller and having to run to get decent distance.

The motorcycle considered the distance and then looked at her single wheel. "Maybe," she conceded.

"Ha!" Wildrider suddenly crowed. He was leaping far faster than the other Transformers, almost at the same speed as the humans. Luckily he was moving away from them. He grinned arrogantly. "I am vinning."

Jazz snorted. "How d' ya win anyway?" he asked, looking at the humans as he stepped to another rock, straining only a little to do so.

"The last one who's on the rocks," Kass began to explain. She smiled as Arcee shot over to another rock before continuing, "You have to keep moving as a group, so sooner or later someone will slip or miss the next rock. The last one on the rocks and not in the 'lava'—VORTEX!"

Kass's sudden shout startled all of them and Thundercracker immediately sought out the quiet helicopter. Vortex had always been reluctantly to join in on group activities, but he had climbed up onto the rocks. Now, the helicopter was still on one of the lower rocks, moved over slightly to watch the humans from another angle. There was nothing wrong about that scene, though.

"What? !" Vortex demanded, startled over his name having been called.

Danny had noticed the problem too and rushed over to the side of her rock. "Watch out for the lava!" she said quickly.

Vortex's visor narrowed as he glanced between the dirt he was standing over and the humans. " _What_ lava? There's nothing there!" he shouted back. He started to turn around.

And then, he took a step backwards and put one pede onto the dirt.

" _No_!" Danny and Kass both howled at the same time. Kass gripped the side of her face in horror as Danny added, "Vortex! He was so young!" Rachel just shook her head and Barns chuckled.

"Stop shouting!" Vortex snapped. He looked up at the rocks with a resigned, impatient look. "Wait, let me try again."

Rachel shot him a dirty look. "Try again? You caught fire and died a horrible flaming death, tinhead, you don't get to try again!" she exclaimed.

Wheeljack took the moment to speak up, saying, "Actually, technically speaking, Vortex most likely would have survived a brief encounter with a field of molten lava, granted that he got out in time—"

"HE'S STANDING IN _LAVA_ ," Danny burst out, gesturing at Vortex and the ground. Thundercracker stared at her, having never seen the tiny human so severe. "HE'S _DEAD_."

"Alright!" Wheeljack said, immediately cowed. He looked back down at Vortex, optics sympathetic. "Sorry Vortex, you're 'dead' now.'" Jazz, who had been laughing during the whole exchange, laughed harder.

Vortex, despite hating games, hated losing more. "How did I lose when all I did was turn around? !" he demanded angrily.

"The ground is _lava_!" Barns said, chidingly. Behind him, Kass jumped across to another boulder.

"You're all fragging insane!" Vortex snarled, marching off decidedly away from the rocks. He sat down resolutely on the ground by the fire and glared daggers at the rest of the group. Thundercracker turned his helm away so the helicopter couldn't see his smirk.

The game continued and for his part, Thundercracker didn't mind it too much. The mechs did have it easier, so it wasn't as fun for them as perhaps it was for the humans. Even then, Thundercracker didn't quite understand where the fun came into play. Perhaps it was the thrill of jumping over high places. They didn't often do that, mostly because it entailed risks and none of them (well, outside of Wildrider and occasionally Danny) liked taking risks for no reason. Then again, they could have been just as _insane_ as Vortex predicted.

"I can't make this jump," Kass said, glancing between two boulders. The distance was larger than any of the other rocks the humans had attempted to cover before, though Thundercracker wasn't sure if she would be able to make it or not.

"Try it!" Barns goaded cheerfully.

Kass made a face. "I don't wanna die…" she said, almost in the same whining fashion Danny had spoken in earlier. She seemed fearful and incredibly hesitant as she prepared to jump.

Thundercracker scowled. "You do all realize the floor isn't really lava, right?" he demanded, glancing at the human as he walked by her. He hoped they didn't actually think it was, because that would definitely lower their IQ levels from his point of view.

"It's part of the game, TC," Kass replied, laughing. With a heave, she leaped across the gap. "Alley-oop!"

To her credit, Kass could jump farther than the short-legged Danny, but lacked Barns' lanky legs. The bottom of her boots made it to the edge of the rock, but that wasn't enough. The traction wasn't enough and she ended up hanging in the middle of the air off the rock, her arms scrambling to grab hold of something.

"Ahhh, I'm slipping!" she cried. Thundercracker saw she was laughing though.

To his credit, Barns attempted to jump back over to the rock she was on to help. "Kass, hold on!" he exclaimed. Primus above, they were being more overdramatic than usual.

"I can't make it. Save yourselves, mates!" Kass shouted. Stepping closer, Bluestreak went to catch her, but she slid completely off and hit the dirt four feet down. "Aww, bollocks."

Rachel grinned maliciously from another boulder. "The lava goddess is pleased by these sacrifices," she said in a silly voice. Barns and Danny cracked up and Kass just shook her head.

"You're all in a right mood tonight, aren't you?" Wheeljack asked, chuckling.

"I haven't played this game since I was six, man," Rachel laughed. She jumped gleefully over another rock. "Gotta love kiddy games."

"Yeah," Barns said, nodding. He had the luxury of having to put less effort into his leaping. "It brings back memories of various camps my grandparents took me to."

"Kevin and I would play this when we went to the camp school," Kass added as she walked back over to Vortex. She sat down with a small huff of air. "It's silly, but human."

Thundercracker chuckled lowly as he turned to walk across another rock. For his part, it wasn't like he had to do much. If this sort of thing gave his less patient comrades something to do that wasn't actually life threatening, then fine. The ridiculousness of having to walk over giant rocks was almost worth hearing the kids laughing that much, even though Wildrider's cackle ruined it—

Just as his full weight came down on the next rock in his path, he felt something give way. The rock crumbled and Thundercracker, quickly adjusting the hydraulics in his lower body, hit the dirt pede first. Luckily, it was simply a step down for him.

"Slaggit," Thundercracker rumbled.

Danny caught him. "TC, you're out!" she called. Shaking his helm, Thundercracker walked away from the rocks. He didn't care either way. At least he could sit down now.

"How the frag did TC lose so fast?" Rachel complained, rolling her eyes. "He's like as tall as all the rocks lined up are."

"I'll avenge you, baby!" Jazz cried to Thundercracker's departing form. The jet just shook his helm again and sat down in front of the rocks with Vortex and Kass to watch the rest of the game.

Kass scoffed loudly as she looked from Thundercracker to Jazz. "Avenge? It's lava. What are you going to do to avenge someone against lava?" she challenged.

"I'll freeze it," Jazz said confidently.

Up on the rocks, Barns and Rachel exchanged a look. "No," Barns said, shaking his head. "That's not how it works."

Jazz made a comical disappointed look as he jumped skillfully across to another rock. "Aww, darn."

A short gasp made all of them look up for one of the organics. Thundercracker's panic flared for the first time that day when he saw Rachel stumble down the side of a sloped rock and then fall off. This rock wasn't that high up, but organics didn't have the impact-bracing technology the mechs had—

Luckily, Rachel hit the ground safely, stumbling slightly to her knees. " _Oof_!"

"Rachel, you okay?" Kass called out.

"Yeaaah." Rachel frowned as she dusted off her pants after standing up. "Man. Okay, I'm out." She gave them a thumbs up as she walked over to Thundercracker, who withheld his sigh as she plopped down between him and Vortex.

Bluestreak was trying to stretch between two other rocks as well, probably choosing to emulate the humans' tactics more than using logic to choose what rocks to go across. "Yeah and—whoa!"

The gunner's pede slipped off the rock and he toppled forward off the boulder, on the other side of the rock from their camp's position. There was a loud metal _clang_ that resonated through the air, but all Thundercracker could see from his position as the back of Bluestreak's helm. He didn't seem hurt; he was at least standing upright.

"Blue's out!" Barns called, seeing the incident better from where he was standing.

"Am I?" Bluestreak asked, surprised. He looked down and made a humming sound as he started to get around the rock to head back to the fire. "Oh, no! I hit the lava!"

Danny laughed again loudly. "See! Blue's playing along fine unlike _some_ people," she said teasingly, glancing over at the 'victim' row.

Vortex sneered back at her. Rachel flipped him the finger and Kass chuckled. For his part, Thundercracker didn't feel that warranted a reaction from him. He had played along, despite the ridiculous nature of the game. They couldn't hold that against him at least, even if he thought it was stupid.

Up on the rocks, only a few of the players were left now. Danny and Barns were still the most active and had fun leaping between rocks as if it really was entertaining for them. The Transformers left were Wheeljack, Arcee, Wildrider and Jazz. Of course, only Arcee and Wheeljack were moving carefully between the rocks, but Thundercracker also saw the next accident happening with Arcee, who had to take the equivalent of a risky jump every time due to her wheeled leg. She was doing a decent job, regardless, even as she rolled up to another large gap between rocks.

"Can you make that leap Arcee?" Wheeljack asked, glancing at the smaller femme with a tilted helm.

Arcee frowned at the gap in concentration. "I'm not sure. Move aside, I need to back up."

Wheeljack obediently moved to another rock as the femme rolled backwards and revved her engine to speed forward. For her, the jumps were more akin to being in a transformed mode than in a bi-pedal form, so things were always trickier. Arcee managed to make the jump, but only to the edge. She made a sound of surprise as she slid off the sloped rock and literally fell the five feet down like the humans had.

The femme managed to hit the ground wheel-first, but dipped forward so far that she slammed into the other rock. Thundercracker winced at the sound of scraping metal on stone. _Here they come, the injuries—_

"Ouch! Arcee, are you okay? !" Kass called, standing upright immediately. The medic in her was easy to coax out.

Arcee, however, recovered quickly and stood upright once again. "Yes. Just a scratch," she replied, inspecting her shoulder plating. There were scrapes, but it wasn't like any of them paid much mind to their paint jobs anymore. At least it wasn't serious.

On the rocks, Wildrider made his way over and leered down at her in the tiny canyon. "Aha, little femme fall down?" he goaded.

The pink femme glared up at him, but rolled off without a word over to the others. Kass and Rachel told her she did a good job and Arcee smiled at them. She was being remarkably civil about the shenanigans; Thundercracker thought to himself perhaps Arcee had actually been enjoying herself. Maybe it was more fun when the gaps were more difficult to get across, so the smaller members of their group had more fun that way. He certainly wasn't going to find a jet-sized canyon just to figure that feeling out, however.

The number of players now dwindling to only five, Thundercracker tried to estimate who was next to fall off. He looked up just in time to have his question answered, courtesy of Barns jumping a gap a bit too large, with his hands desperately grabbing onto the other boulder. Unlike Rachel who had not been able to hold on long enough, Barns was suddenly stuck.

" _Merde_ —!" Barns cursed. He struggled to get traction against the rock's exterior surface, but eventually stopped trying. He hung there like one of the human's wet shirts hanging on a tree branch to dry. He sounded amused when he spoke. "Well, this is kind of bad."

"I could try t' jump over t' pick ya up…" Jazz said, after finishing his own string of laughter. The humans were laughing a lot over this.

Barns tried to pull himself again and failed. "I'm falling anyway," he said gruffly, grinning. He started laughing again. "Ha! I am like that super hero!"

"Vhich one?" Wildrider asked, dancing to another rock top. Of course he knew what the frag the human was talking about.

Grunting, Barns tried to brace his feet against the rock. "The spider one," he said.

" _Spider-Man_?" Rachel offered, making a face. Kass and Danny looked on clueless, which made them far more similar to the mechs than the other two humans.

Barns cracked up again. "Yeah!"

"What the frag is a super hero?" Vortex muttered. He was still sulking apparently.

" _Deadpool_ rules!" Jazz interrupted, suddenly grinning excitedly. "I remember gettin' a few issues of it back, like waaay back in '08, an' he just cracked me up. Have you guys ever—?"

Without a sound, Barns let go of the rock. He hit the ground with a small grunt and smiled sheepishly.

Danny giggled up on a taller rock. "Aaand, the lava goddess claims another one," she said, grinning as Barns walked over to the campfire.

"Why is it a goddess, by the way?" Bluestreak asked, confused. He tilted his head as he looked down at Barns and Kass. "Are we supposed to be specific?"

"I dunno," Kass said chuckling. Her eyes suddenly widened and she pointed out at the rocks quickly. "Ah! Jazz, your foot touched the dirt!"

"Naw, it didn't," Jazz said, glancing down at his leg. Thundercracker tilted his helm to try to judge whether or not the silver pede had actually touched the ground. It wasn't easy to tell.

Despite having weaker eyesight, the human apparently knew the answer. "Yes, it did," Danny said with a shake of the head.

Jazz pushed off the rock and landed smoothly on the ground. "Shucks. If you say so," he said. If he could, he probably would be pouting.

"So, only Danny, Wildrider and Wheeljack left alive…" Rachel murmured. She grinned over at the other 'victims' seated with her. "Dream team or the doom squad?"

"I like the last one, personally," Wheeljack suddenly said, though it was mostly a mutter. Thundercracker laughed and Kass giggled unhelpfully.

"Hey! We're an awesome team!" Danny exclaimed from the rocks. She grinned over at Wildrider, who was two boulders ahead of her. "We'll beat the lava goddess and save the princess!"

Kass scoffed. "What princess?"

"I read it in a magazine once," Danny said cheerfully. She grunted as she went across a larger gap to another rock. "When you save the day, you save the princess."

Jazz started laughing hard at that, but no one else seemed to get the joke. Thundercracker sighed; he wasn't going to try to figure it out. Danny made quick leaps over two consecutive boulders.

She got to one more rock and the inevitable happened. Leaping upwards, Danny grabbed the rock in front of her and tried to pull herself up. She slipped in a manner not unlike Kass, with her sneakers not giving her enough traction. For a full two seconds, the look of momentary success turning into horror on her face made Thundercracker laugh out once loudly.

" _NO_!" It was difficult to figure out who screamed louder, Wildrider or Danny, who slid solidly off the rock and rolled onto the ground.

"So much for th' dream team," Jazz called out, laughing more. "Nice save, 'Rider."

Wildrider scowled and marched over to where Danny had fallen. "Ahhh, I did not see," he said. He stood over the edge and peered down at the fallen human. "Danny! You haff fallen into lava!"

Getting to her feet, Danny laughed. "It's okay, 'Rider. Keep going!" she said. She walked backwards toward the others on the ground so she could keep talking to the mech. "Save the princess!"

"I vill!" Wildrider called back, raising a fist in triumph.

Arcee scoffed and shook her helm. "They are ridiculous," she said. She said it with a small smile, however.

Wildrider was still cackling over his declaration to save the imaginary politician as he turned to continue the game. Thundercracker sighed heavily once more when he saw the disaster before it even happened; with his optics on other things, Wildrider didn't see the edge of the rock he was walking on. Instinct took over and Wildrider twisted around to land on his feet. The short drop meant nothing to them physically, but Wildrider practically screeched in agony.

"The princess!" he cried.

"She's in another castle," Jazz said automatically before howling with more laughter. Everyone stared at him; Thundercracker assumed it was a pre-Earth invasion joke. It always was.

Danny was laughing along with Jazz, but stopped abruptly with a gasp. "Wait… Wheeljack!"

Wheeljack paused and looked down at his kin. "Yes?"

"You're the last one standing!" she exclaimed, grinning. She raised her hands and cheered. "You beat the lava goddess!"

"I suppose I did," Wheeljack said, optics brighter. He walked toward the edge of the boulders and shrugged the best way he could.

"How the hell did Wheeljack win?" Rachel blurted, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I didn't try leaping over ledges I knew I couldn't make," Wheeljack replied, laughing now. He stepped down onto two shorter rocks to get back onto the ground.

"Also, he's gigantic," Vortex muttered darkly.

"Laaaaame," Wildrider whined. Danny giggled.

Bluestreak smiled at the others. "That was fun!" he said, looking over at Kass and the humans.

"For all the scrapes we got from it," Thundercracker replied shortly. To be truthful, they had escaped with far less damage than they usually saw after the more common games they played; football was now officially banned after Danny nearly broke an ankle.

"It wasn't as destructive as tag though," Kass offered.

"Yeah. No one got seriously hurt and we could all play together," Barns added. He grinned up at the mechs. "I consider that a good game."

"True," Wheeljack agreed. He walked over and tilted his head down at the others. "Not a bad way to spend the evening, I suppose."

Standing upright, Kass laughed. "Help me with the dishes?" she asked her organic friends.

"Yup!"

Thundercracker watched the sky grow darker and the humans do what they had to do to get ready for evening rest. Jazz settled down next to him, smiling at him, and Thundercracker smirked back at the smaller 'bot. Most likely they were thinking the same thing: despite the minor screw-ups, this had been a good idea.

"I like playing with everyone," Danny said.

"Me too," Bluestreak replied as he took the dried pans from Kass. It was his turn to subspace the cooking supplies for the kids.

Vortex made a scowling expression. "Ugh." He scowled even more when the humans laughed.

"Cheer up, 'Tex," Jazz offered cheerfully from next to Thundercracker. "As long as there aren't any rocks, we can't play th' Floor is Lava."

"Good," Vortex said, visor narrowed.

Wildrider glanced to the side and grinned at everyone except Vortex pointedly. "Then again, ve vill be traveling along mountain range for several veeks," he added, his attempt at sounding innocent making the others laugh. They laughed harder when Vortex swore loudly.

"Slaggit!"

Thundercracker shook his head and smirked.

 

* * *

 **End** _**Game** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: Barns finds the most amazing device and opportunity…**

  


* * *

  


**  
**

**A/Ns** :  
-"Football" as in American soccer.


	49. Picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _Southern France  
April 2053_

Not every camp was a good camp. When they did find the rare human refugee establishment in the middle of no where, it was still a good sign of the human race's survival. It didn't necessarily mean it was good for the group of eleven survivors, however. Barns especially had an aversion to finding aggressive humans due to his past experience, but sometimes they got lucky and found camps where the citizens were still sane.

That day, they found a moderate sized base along the Pyrenees, with almost a hundred group members. Luckily, a lot of them had been soldiers, so when Barns and his friends walked up to investigate, the sight of the aliens hadn't sent the camp scurrying for their weapons. Most of the humans gawked openly in shock, but some of the friendly ex-soldiers struck up conversation with the mechs easily.

Well, the mechs who were willing to talk. Barns hid his smile as Vortex and Bluestreak grumbled and pouted (well, Bluestreak visibly did anyway). They did not like strange humans, probably seeing them as a threatening presence. Barns had no intention of leaving their group for another group of humans, however, no matter how nice. He knew the other humans felt the same, but it was sometimes difficult for the mechs to realize that.

Barns just tried to be patient with the uncomfortable ones. They'd be gone by morning. For now, he was happy to sit with the more communicative members as they exchanged stories with the locals—

"You French?" a heavily accented voice broke into his thoughts.

"Yes, sir," Barns answered, glancing over at the German solider who had spoken.

The white haired man pointed back toward another fire, where a few other people were seated. He seemed to single out a black-haired man who was seated alone with a few bags.

"You might vant to talk to Herr Fournier over zhere," the German said. "He is französisch, from France, as vell."

Barns peered out at the new man curiously. He hadn't run into any French people in almost… several months at least. Which might have seemed odd, since they were in France, but considering the fact that this was an apocalyptic state of the world and almost everyone was dead… not so much. But it was still strange for him to miss finding speakers of his own first language.

Intrigued, Barns left his friends to talk contentedly with the other soldiers and set his sights on the new figure, Fournier. The other man hadn't noticed him walking over; he seemed focused on whatever it was he was holding in his hands.

" _J'ai entendu dire que vous étiez le français_ ," Barns began, grinning as he walked over toward the stranger. He spoke loudly, but tried not to seem threatening. He didn't want to make enemies in a place that seemed rather welcoming.

Surprised, the black haired man turned and seemed to brighten as Barns approached. This man looked like he was about thirty, perhaps a bit younger. The dust and stress always made the young seem older, Goddard had told him wisely.

" _Bonjour_!" the dark haired man said pleasantly. He nodded back at the very obvious group Barns had come with, mainly the Autobots. " _J'aime vos étrangers. Les Autobots, oui_?"

Oh, it was good to hear his own tongue once in a while, but Barns couldn't be selfish. If he got too used to it, he'd have trouble talking to his friends later. " _Euh, salut. Et, oui_." he said, grinning. " _Pourriez-vous parler l'anglais, s'il vous plait?_ We are English speakers mainly."

The older man chuckled and nodded. "Ah, yes," he said, in English with a thicker accent than Barns'. "You are far from the Isles, aren't you?"

"We travel around everywhere we can. We actually only have one Briton with us," Barns replied with a smile as he moved to shake the man's hand properly. "I am Barnaby Rancourt."

Introductions were had and Barns settled down on the log to feel the fire better. The man who had spoken to him was named Jean-Louis Fournier and he was from Lyons. They talked about France and Barns' own origins. They didn't have any relations between them, but Barns was happy to be able to meet another person from his grandparents' country. It was the closest thing to a national identity he had, after all.

While they talked, Jean-Louis continued to work on what looked like a black square box. It didn't seem to be working out well for him, however, so Barns began to take interest in what it was.

"What are you working on, if I may ask?" he asked, peering at the black box. It looked familiar, but since it was upside down…

Jean-Louis grinned and flipped the device right side up. "It is a camera, for photographs. Truly antique!" he said proudly.

Barns couldn't believe his eyes. It was a camera and it was in remarkable condition. "Fascinating! It takes photos?" he asked, leaning closer. The flash bulb was even intact!

"Yes. Well… sort of," Jean-Louis said. He sighed and held the camera up in the air. "It did, but now I cannot make it work."

"Is there film?" Barns asked, only half-teasing.

Jean-Louis laughed and waved a hand at him. " _Oui_ , _oui_ , plenty. I found a store one day and found many boxes," he explained. "I cannot figure out why it is not working though."

"Hmm. I am good with, ah, tinkering." Barns held his hand out in offer, trying not to seem pushy. "Allow me?"

To his luck, Jean-Louis just laughed and handed the camera over without any reluctance. "Couldn't hurt," he said.

Barns knew very little about cameras, but he was good at problem solving. He had fixed Danny's MP3 player several times in the past, so he had hope he could figure this out. His first assumption was that there was something wrong with the batteries. Everything else on the camera was almost in flawless condition. It just seemed like the button wouldn't work when they pressed on it.

As it turned out, the battery was actually inside the film unit for this kind of camera. Barns took that out and peered into the empty slot. He took the new film unit and put it in, but nothing happened.

Hmm. Barns took the film out again and peered closer at the slot. In the far back, he saw there was what looked like a bundle of wires sticking out. Carefully, Barns moved the bundle back further into the bottom compartment. The film unit easily slipped back in and surprisingly went in further. There was a solid click and Barns took that as a good thing.

Experimenting was the only way to tell if it had worked, however. He held the camera up, pointed it at Jean-Louis and clicked the button. There was a shocking flash and the camera spit out a glossy rectangular sheet. "Look! It works!" he cried.

" _Merveilleux_!" Jean-Louis exclaimed next to him. He peered over at the extended paper, excited. "It works!"

"It is instant?" Barns asked, surprised.

"Yes, Polaroid. It develops in the air," Jean-Louis explained expertly. He held the camera up to his eye, practically gleeful. "Ah ha, this is fantastic, _mon ami_. _Merci, merci_."

"Don't mention it," Barns said, shaking his head. He was still impressed he had managed to make it work again. "What do you plan to do with it?"

The other Frenchman chuckled as he peered around the camp through the viewfinder. "Oh, perhaps sell photos?" he said, only half a question there. "Not that we have much to take photos of other than ourselves."

Barns smiled. "That is far more important, I would think," he replied. It was a sound plan, actually. Many people would like the sentimentality of a photograph, so Jean-Louis might actually get many good trades from it. "That is a brilliant idea, Jean-Louis."

Jean-Louis looked up suddenly, looking excited. "Ah, would you like a photo? In payment for fixing the camera," he said. He lifted the device up and pointed it at Barns with his finger poised over the button. "It only takes a moment—!"

Barns gasped and jerked out of the way, making Jean-Louis stop. "Wait!" he exclaimed. He stopped and suddenly had several thoughts running through his mind. "Ah…"

"What?" Jean-Louis asked, surprised at his reaction.

Staring at the camera, Barns gave him a hesitant excited look. "…I have a favor to ask. For the photo," he began, cautiously.

His friend looked confused, but nodded. "Name it!"

"…How difficult would it be to take a photo of all of us?" Barns asked, glancing back at his group. Everyone once in a while Vortex and Bluestreak would glance his way in suspicion, but everyone else was busy chatting or eating.

That gave Jean-Louis even more pause. "All of you?" he asked, stunned. It did seem like an insurmountable task.

"Yes."

Jean-Louis hesitated, frowning thoughtfully as he peered at the mechs and three other humans. "…Well… there are many of you. And your friends are very large," he began slowly. "But we can try."

Barns beamed. "That would be amazing, Jean-Louis. Thank you!" he said, standing. He stepped over the log and started to jog back to the ten's area. " _Un moment!_ I will get the others!"

Jazz was the first one to look up and see Barns approaching. He noted his cheer immediately. "What're you smilin' about?" the silver mech asked. "You make a new friend?"

"More than that! Ah, this is fantastic news," Barns said. He clasped his hands together and beamed at all of his friends, who were now looking at him expectantly. "Jean-Louis' camera is now working. He has offered to take a photo for us."

There was a short pause as everyone seemed to take in his announcement. Kass looked shocked. "Photo? Wait, of all of us? !" she asked, sitting upright. "How? !"

Barns grinned because he knew it sounded crazy to suggest they could somehow fit all eleven of them, mechs included, into one photograph. "If we all squeeze in and move far enough back, perhaps it will work!" he said, trying to rouse his friends into getting excited over it.

"What is a _photo_?" Bluestreak asked, frowning.

Wheeljack laughed. "A photograph," he explained. "You know, a picture of _us_. A real representation of us on paper."

There was another pause. "…You can do that?" Danny asked, breathless.

"Yes!" Barns said, nodding. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. "Come on."

"We'd have to develop it…" Kass began, frowning, though she stood up as well.

"No, no, it is a Polaroid, with instant photo paper in it," Barns replied. He glanced back at the waiting Jean-Louis. "It develops in a few minutes in the air. It's perfect!"

Vortex didn't budge an inch from where he was standing. "Why?" he asked, defensive.

"We could have a photo of all of us together!" Jazz replied, grinning. "This is great!"

"There's no point," Vortex continued, glaring out at the unknown human.

Barns sighed. "Every family needs a family portrait," he said quietly, crossing his arms against his chest.

That was enough to make all of them stop and look at him. Jazz tilted his helm, surprised.

"…Well… yeah," he said, sounding almost impressed. He grinned and nudged Vortex who growled. "Never thought of it like that."

"It sounds like a lovely idea, Barns," Wheeljack added, optics shining with a smile. Barns grinned back.

"Let's do it!" Kass exclaimed, standing. She looked just as excited as Barns did. "There's no harm to it and I don't think this opportunity will ever happen again, so let's take advantage!" Jazz cheered and started pulling on Thundercracker to stand up. Reluctant group members successfully roused, they made their way over the field.

"My hair is horrible," Rachel was moaning as they marched over to where Jean-Louis was waiting. She kept smoothing the blonde mop down hopelessly.

"No it isn't," Arcee replied, frowning in confusion. "It's normal."

Rachel scowled. "Which is horrible."

"Oh, stop it, you look fine," Kass chided, pushing the blonde forward.

"Danny's hair is a bit crazy," Jazz teased.

Danny scowled and tried to push her tangled hair down. Wildrider grinned behind her. "It has mind of its own," the mech offered with a cackle.

Barns chuckled. "Never mind your looks," he said. "We should be happy with having anything."

"True," Kass agreed, Rachel and Danny nodding.

Vortex was the least happy about wandering closer to the other humans and he didn't seem to understand the allure of the camera to start with. "I don't get why we should have to have a photo of all of us," he snapped. Barns felt a little bad about springing this on the mech, considering he was still agitated over being in the camp to start with.

"What if one of us dies, huh?" Rachel prompted, surprisingly enthusiastic. "There's a reason."

Wheeljack hummed. "We have memories," he offered, glancing at Vortex.

"This is more than a memory," Barns replied, shaking his head. "This is… proof."

"Of what?" Vortex demanded, visor narrowed.

Barns hesitated, only because he didn't know how to voice his opinion. "That we were here. On Earth. With each other," he said. He smiled up at the others. "So if memories ever fade, especially for us humans… we can still remember the faces of those we love."

Vortex stared at him and Barns turned back around to find the photographer he had enlisted. Jean-Louis was watching the group approaching with an increasingly wary expression, but that was normal for strangers when encountering such a large company of mechs. Barns waved at him.

"Jean-Louis, thank you so much," Wheeljack began, standing back respectfully. Wildrider edged a bit closer to look at the camera curiously, but Danny helpfully told him to back up.

" _Euhh_ , not a problem, friend," Jean-Louis said, incredibly nervous. He fixed his attention on Barns instead, though he wasn't trying to be rude. "Now, let's try to have all of you, _euh_ , robots standing by the trees. That distance should work."

"Sure thing!" Bluestreak said, just as excited as the humans were about the whole thing. That made Barns feel much better about causing so much chaos.

Backing away, the eleven survivors stared at the almost empty space by the trees. Barns bit his lip, considering their options. It was going to be cramped…

"Alright, let's make it work!" Kass ordered. She pointed at the tree Jean-Louis had directed them to. "TC in the back, same with Wheeljack. Everyone else just squeeze in."

"Roger," Jazz said playfully. He immediately slid up in front of Thundercracker however. "Got my spot!"

Danny gasped as the other mechs tried to assemble. "Wheeljack, your mask!" she cried.

Her guardian hesitated and reached up to touch his blast mask. "On or off?" he asked, bemused. He looked to the humans for the answer.

"Off," Danny insisted.

"He always wears it on though," Rachel replied, frowning. Barns had to agree; they should look as they always did.

Danny only pouted. "But you're supposed to smile—!" she complained before they got into a small argument over the state of Wheeljack's mask.

All of them tried to talk at once to organize themselves. "How about I lift you up to where I am?" Jazz asked, picking Rachel up.

"Yeah, it'd be better than squishing the humans up front," she agreed.

"I vant to be in _front_ ," Wildrider was whining over and over, as if none of them were listening. Barns shook his head with a smile.

"I have no choice," Arcee muttered, rolling up in front of Jazz. She sighed as Barns moved to stand next to her.

"Where should I go?" Bluestreak kept asking.

Kass, in his hands, gestured toward the mass of people already in front of them. "Just squeeze in, lean in a bit into the shot."

"I'm just going to stand here," Thundercracker said dryly. Jazz giggled.

Danny whooped as Wildrider collapsed in the very front of Bluestreak and Vortex and she climbed up onto his shoulder quickly. "Barns, you can get on his other shoulder!"

"I can stand here," Barns said, shaking his head.

"If you touch me one more time," Vortex began, snarling. Rachel kicked him in the helm, startling him into letting Bluestreak lean in closer. "Hey!"

" _Une_ , _deux_ …" Jean-Louis began to count down from across the field. Barns looked up and did his best to smile as he felt everyone fidget behind him. " _Trois_!"

The flash went off and Danny immediately reached up to her eyes with a cry of surprise. Kass giggled and urged Bluestreak to back away, since Vortex was beginning to get angry again.

"I can't wait to see it!" Jazz said, almost bouncing up and down.

Thundercracker gave him a strained look. "You have better high resolution shots of the others anyway," he said.

"But none of myself," Jazz reminded him.

"Conceited," Thundercracker accused, though he smiled when Jazz playfully punched him on the arm.

Barns chuckled, but was distracted when he felt someone tap his shoulder. Jean-Louis was holding out the printed photograph.

"Here you go, _mon ami_ ," Jean-Louis said as Barns took the photograph square from him. The older man shook Barns' hand enthusiastically. "Thank you again."

"Thank you," Barns countered, glancing from the still-dark image to the man in front of him. "Good luck with your business!"

Jean-Louis barked out a laugh. "Aha, I'm sure it will be a success once I tell them my first customers were the giant aliens!" he said with a grin.

Barns laughed and waved at him as he went back to his gear. Yes, this had been a great idea. Turning, he waved the developing photo in the air as his friends looked down at him impatiently.

"Vhen?" Wildrider prompted, eager.

Vortex's visor was narrowed and he was probably grimacing behind his mask, which he had not dropped for the photograph. "Ugh. I could care less. It's probably all wrong."

"It's going to be _lovely_ ," Kass said confidently.

"Not with Jazz creeping down on me and Barns," Rachel muttered, trying not to smirk. "That's what it seemed like at least."

"Oh, shut up," Jazz said, laughing. Thundercracker rumbled even.

"It's almost developed," Barns announced, breaking into the argument. He chuckled as the image faded into existence. Oh, _mon dieu_ , this was perfect…

"Let me see!" Danny exclaimed, reaching for the white paper.

"One second… ah!" Barns grinned, holding the photograph in front of him, while the others attempted to look at it. "Here it is!"

In the end, the photo had turned out quite humorously for Barns and most of the others. The image was very small and Barns himself was almost cut out at the bottom because they had so many large people in one shot, but… it worked.

Thundercracker loomed awkwardly at the top left corner, with Wheeljack mirroring him on the right, though Wheeljack had remembered to smile since his mask was down and his earfins were bright. In front of Thundercracker were Jazz and Rachel, in Jazz's hand. Next to her was poor, poor Vortex, who had been squished courtesy of Bluestreak. The gunner, holding Kass up cheerfully, had been forced to lean in to get in the shot.

On the other side, in front of Jazz, Arcee was smiling tightly and Barns, who stood next to her, couldn't blame her. He himself was only visible from the mid-chest upwards. Beneath Kass, who was laughing, Wildrider had flung himself forward at the last second, Danny propped up on his shoulder, with both smiling happily in the very front of the shot.

Needless to say, Barns considered it a minor miracle they had all, in some way, been included in the shot. Some deity was obviously looking over them that day.

"Ahaha, 'Rider gave us a thumbs up," Rachel said, still laughing over the image. Everyone except Vortex had found a reason to laugh over the photograph's contents. Then again, Barns was rather certain Vortex had been happy to be next to the blond human for it.

"It's me!" Danny cried, ecstatic. "Oh my gosh, look, it's me!" Barns smiled at her reaction; she had never seen photos of people she had actually known, so it must have been surreal to have one now of herself.

"Yes," Wheeljack said, humored by her enthusiasm. "The miracle of photographs."

Danny's smile faltered. "…Is my hair really that messy?" she asked, looking strangely ill as she touched her hair experimentally. Rachel and Jazz burst out laughing.

"I am handsome mech," Wildrider crowed. Arcee made a scoffing sound and his grin vanished and they started to bicker in the background as the image got passed around more.

"My doorwings almost blocked your face, Wheeljack!" Bluestreak was saying, looking stricken. "I'm sorry, Wheeljack, do you want to try it again?"

" _Hell_ no," Kass immediately said with wide eyes. Thundercracker and Arcee wore similar expressions. Barns cracked up; yes, it was a one-time thing.

"It's okay, Blue," Wheeljack said, chuckling. He had put his mask back up, looking normal again. He tilted his head at the photograph as Barns held it up closer to him. "This was very nice, Barns."

Jazz beamed down at Barns. "Yeah, good thinking, man," he said. Barns nodded back, pleased with himself.

When Danny had run off to check her hair in Wheeljack's mirror once he transformed, she handed the picture back to him. Barns had a few more seconds to really look at it, and suddenly, it didn't seem like the awkward shot it had been when they had taken it. It seemed natural, spontaneous… strangely _them_. It wasn't perfect, but they weren't either, as individuals or a family. They were just _right_.

" _C'est beau_ ," he said, eyes soft as he gazed at the photo before handing it off to eager hands. Rachel was holding it up to Thundercracker now and they were all laughing.

Kass smiled at him. " _Oui_ ," she said as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Good idea, Barns."

Barns grinned and thought the same.

They took turns carrying it after that. Over the course of a year, it got bent, smudged, almost burnt on the one side and part of the white framing had begun to tear at the bottom, where Barns could still read various scribbles of _nous famille_ and _OUR FAMILY_ from all sorts of human hands and inks. They didn't have a picture frame or somewhere safe to keep it from getting dirty or ripped, but that was okay. Every blotchy stain was a remnant of another day and another trial they all had to face. It was part of their lives just as much as they were part of the same family portrait.

When the days got harder and Barns was left sitting there by the fire with memories and bruises, which both faded over time, he still could clutch that photograph close to his chest to rememorize the faces of everyone he loved and cherished:

His friends. Their family.

 

* * *

 **End** _**Picture** _ **.**

 _**Next** _ **: The project continues and our heroes face the end of all they know as "home."**

  


* * *

  


**  
**

**A/Ns** :  
-Barns and Jean-Louis' conversation basically went like: "I heard you speak French." "Hi, I like your aliens. The Autobots, right?" "Yup, could you speak English, please?"  
-"Euh" is the French version of the "um" interjection in English, in case that was confusing.  
\- Fun fact! Polaroid announced in 2008 that they would discontinue production of instant film, but the public outcry was overwhelmingly negative. People loved their Instant Cameras. Fujifilm continued to make instant film and cameras and in 2009 Polaroid announced they would restart production on cameras and film. Thereby making film available for Jean-Louis to scavenge in 2053.


	50. Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING! :) This is the very last chapter of Fallout and is a direct sequel to Chapters 25 "Last Hope" and 40 "Fortitude." The machine is ready…
> 
> Seriously, thank you all for taking the time to read this. This is my longest project to date and definitely the most fun out of all my fan fictions. I've exceeded the expectations I had for myself as a writer over the course of this past year and your kind support has gotten me to this point, I'm sure.
> 
> The sequel is next, titled Fallout: Apocalypse, which is available on my profile page on AO3 or ff.net. The plot will be larger (huge even), there will be MANY new characters, ALL questions will be answered… and things will change. Not for the better, but far from the worst. Be prepared for an immediate overdose of drama. D: I can only hope that you will enjoy Apocalypse as much as you enjoyed Fallout.
> 
> Until next, thank you all so much again. Thank you Shantastic and Kelly for beta-ing this monster for so very long. I hope you all enjoyed this crazy ride as much as I did!
> 
> Onto "Believe"!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.  
> Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

 

 _February 2054_

The end of the end of the world was upon them. Kass had told him that cheerfully, one day in the middle of cleaning the lab. She had been joking, because no matter where they went, Earth would be the same. But this trip could spell the end of _their_ apocalypse, she had reasoned with him, because they could go somewhere better, somewhere with a future.

Bluestreak wanted a better future, for himself and his family.

He, for one, thought this was their best plan, since it was the only one they had. He honestly believed that it would work, because Wheeljack was confident, and it seemed that everyone else was happy to go. They were going to Africa, a place Bluestreak knew next to nothing about, but that was okay. It was better than where they were, so that was good. It was really, really good.

Everyone was nervous and Bluestreak couldn't blame them. He found it difficult to recharge at night when he realized they were leaving the only home he had left. Well, he reasoned, the only physical home he had left. His actual home was with the other ten survivors, of course. Where they went, he would go too, and that was enough. That made him able to face the coming challenge of leaving Europe and the place that had drawn them together.

He didn't quite understand how space bridges worked, since he wasn't a scientist. He trusted Wheeljack implicitly to get the science right, at any rate. It didn't matter to him how it worked (though those five sparks powering it made him shudder and want to run the other way); as long as it worked and it saved them, he couldn't care less about numbers.

Not everyone felt the same, he learned late into the project.

He had worked off and on for the two months they were there on whatever project Wheeljack needed his help with, but Bluestreak never actively chose to hang around the lab. When he did go to check on the lab out of curiosity one night, he found someone else was still there. They left the lights on most times, even when no one was there. It made it less creepy, at least for the humans. After his captivity and near death in Kass' old camp, Bluestreak had never been comfortable in a cave of any sort. He was surprised to see that he wasn't alone that night.

"Barns?" he called out, seeing the brown haired man pacing slowly on the desk Wheeljack had shoved off to one side. It was far from the machines, but covered with bits of supplies and datapads.

"Hello, Bluestreak," Barns replied, glancing up at him. He smiled even though he looked exhausted. It was a bit late for the human to be up. Then again, the young man had been working as Wheeljack's assistant. No wonder he was in the lab, even without Wheeljack there.

"What're you doing?" the gunner asked, tilting his helm at the young man.

Barns held up what had to be the smallest datapad Bluestreak had ever seen. "Just, ah, going over these notes Wheeljack gave me. I cannot read most of the data, but…" The human hummed. "Numbers are numbers."

"I didn't think you had that training, Barns," Bluestreak said, impressed. He had been told humans needed outside educational influence to become things like inventors or physicists like Wheeljack. Then again, perhaps it was like art and Kass; it was instinctual too.

"I'm no scientist," Barns said with a short laugh. He looked out at the lab with dark eyes. "I want to help though."

"You have helped!" Bluestreak said, smiling brightly. Much more than Bluestreak had; Wheeljack raved about Barns' problem solving skills, even if he couldn't hook into the computer.

Barns nodded and made a vague sound. "Hmm."

Bluestreak watched as the human put his datapad down and just stared out at the empty room. Something shifted in the air, an emotional change; Bluestreak frowned deeply when he saw how tightly Barns was clenching his fists. It wasn't anger. It was…

"Barns, are you okay?" Bluestreak asked, very concerned as he stepped closer.

There was a tense pause. Bluestreak could see Barns' shoulders hunch up quite like his own doorwings might under stress. "I'm afraid the science is wrong," the man said quietly and through clenched teeth. His accent was even stronger than normal.

Bluestreak frowned more. "Wheeljack is sure it's okay though," he said. He didn't know why there would be a problem. Wheeljack told them over and over how it was going to be a success.

Barns inhaled sharply and moved toward the edge of the desk. He crossed his arms against his chest, still defensive. "I know. I know. And I trust him," he said, nodding. "But I'm… afraid of things going wrong."

"They won't," Bluestreak said.

"No one can promise that," the human countered, shaking his head. "Even Wheeljack said that things could go wrong. So much power, such a distance… it is dangerous."

Bluestreak offered his hand the moment the young man walked over to the edge of the table. He gently lowered Barns to the cold ground and the young man just… stood there. He didn't seem able to look away from the one spot on the far wall, though Bluestreak was certain his friend wasn't actually staring at anything in particular.

"I…" Barns began, but then stopped. Bluestreak leaned closer with a whine.

The human looked up at the mech and smiled. It was sad, scared look though. Bluestreak was always surprised by the complexity of human emotions and how they could show so much with only a simple gesture. Watching Barns now made Bluestreak feel uneasy.

"I don't know if we're going to be okay," Barns said. He said it with the same smile, but his entire body language seemed defensive. Scared.

Bluestreak didn't exactly know what to say about that. They were all scared, Bluestreak included. It was natural to be afraid. They were facing a challenge and a future none of them had ever dared to anticipate. Part of Bluestreak sometimes agreed with Jazz, that they were moving too quickly, too soon, but… what choice did they have?

It was either move on, trusting in Wheeljack and the plan…

Or be destroyed like Kass's camp. Die like those scientists in the crypt. Die like Kevin.

Bluestreak shuttered his optics and then reopened them, bracing his spark.

 _They had no choice. We do._

"I'm sure we'll be okay, Barns," Bluestreak said, smiling gently. He crouched down near his friend, so they were almost eye to optic. "We're going to be okay."

He couldn't promise anything, but in his spark he was sure. He could believe in Wheeljack's scientific ability. He lived his life believing that his family would survive—together. That's all he could offer anyone, including himself.

Barns' smile never quite got happier. "I hope so," he said softly.

 **0000**

She was scared. They all were, but some nights Kass felt like she couldn't breathe. The cavern grew smaller and tighter every day they spent there. They had long since passed the move-out date they had planned on and the snow wasn't too bad outside now. Spring, at least their pitiful version of it, wasn't far off either.

But here they sat, planning a trip to Africa. A permanent trip. Through a space bridge—alien technology so advanced that none of the people in her whole family could understand it, except Wheeljack. A piece of equipment created by a group of dead 'bots; one that was powered using those 'bots actual sparks. All of these facts seemed to scream for attention inside Kass' mind, to the point that she didn't know what to think first. All of the unknowns and uncertainties became ghosts haunting her thoughts. But she tried, she really did try, to be strong and not appear to be upset. Everyone was on edge as the days stretched on and on—both because of the lengthening days and because of the increasing tension. It was unsettling for them to stay in one place so long—the wanderlust causing them all to be short with each other. It amused her to realize that staying in one place was more alien to them than the actual aliens in their midst.

They needed this to work soon. Kass prayed Wheeljack could hurry.

She herself couldn't do much to help, outside of the mechanical repairs Wheeljack instructed her to complete. With him and Barns working out the math end of the equations to figure out how to warp space or whatever the plan was, Kass was more than happy to mend wires and meld metal. It was all she could do.

One day, she found herself without that work and was left sitting by the fire. The repairs were almost done and that was exciting—but now she had to wait. It didn't matter if she sat with Bluestreak or another of her more talkative friends. None of them were much for talking lately anyway, or for games or reading or for any of their usual simple entertainments. They all just sat there if they didn't have a job to do—sat there alone with thoughts that were enough to drive them insane.

"He's hiding something," Arcee said one day, sitting quietly with Kass by the fire. Kass chuckled, despite her riotous stomach. Her nerves were always shot lately.

"He's just scared," she said patiently, knowing the femme was talking about Wheeljack. "I am too." _That_ was an understatement.

Arcee rumbled lowly. "I just hope… Africa will be a better place for you humans," she said in a quiet voice. She sighed.

Kass glanced up at her and nodded. "And you guys too," she added. Theoretically, things would be okay for both species. Theoretically.

"Still." Arcee shocked Kass by reaching out and resting a scraped pink hand on Kass's shoulder. The femme was only a few feet taller than the human woman she smiled kindly at. "You are still sparklings to me."

"Aww, Arcee." Kass smiled at her friend, moved. Arcee was generally very reserved, so it was surprisingly nice when she did voice her feelings about the others. "It'll be okay. 'Jack's doing his best and we are too."

"I wish we could help. The science is not in my processors unfortunately," Arcee replied. She smiled tightly and placed her hand back on the ground. "You four are being strong."

"Of course." Kass stood up and gazed around the camp, images of the south she'd seen in books popping up in her mind. "Someday soon, we're going to be sunbathing in Africa. And we're going to be together…" Kass swallowed. It was always easier to imagine than to believe, but she tried. She turned and tried to be brave for her friend. They needed to be strong for each other. "And we're going to be better off than we will be sticking around here."

"If it doesn't work…" Arcee trailed off.

"We'll still be together," Kass finished for her, taking a steadying breath. She grinned confidently at the femme, despite her nervous stomach. "And that's what matters." That was all that mattered.

Arcee's green optics were gentle. "Of course," she agreed.

Kass glanced out the cavern exit and saw another snow storm flashing by. The wind howled and the cave grew smaller.

 _Hurry, Wheeljack._

 **0000**

After hours of working alone on the system and space bridge power cells day after day, Wheeljack could always tell when one of his friends were approaching. The sound of footsteps approaching the lab doors and then crossing the stone threshold were loud enough clues to let the scientist know he was no longer alone. He had long since memorized the distinctions of each of his friends' foot patterns, of course, so the identity was also easy to establish.

Wheeljack focused on the monitor screen as he finished up another diagnostic routine. He was so close to finishing the project. He just had to double, triple and quadruple check _everything_.

"Hello, Wildrider," he said, aiming to be pleasant. He had been grumpy and exhausted all week and he knew it must have shown. He didn't want to worry his friends so much, despite the pressure to finish quickly and perfectly.

" _Pryvet_ ," Wildrider replied calmly. He stepped up close to the worktable and peered out at the machines. He looked down at the monitor flashing all of the cyphertext only the scientist could read. "Vhat is this?"

Wheeljack chuckled as he let the other mech peer closer. It wasn't as if the other mech could really tell what it said. "Oh, just some more calculations. Barns actually figured this part out. He's helped a lot," he said, honestly proud in the intelligent human boy. Barns could have been a physicist or an engineer, if he had had the opportunity to be trained. "We're almost ready, if you can believe it!"

"To go through bridge," Wildrider muttered. He moved away and stared curiously over at the rest of the room. The white launch pad was the largest and most obvious object in the room. The red-and-black mech stared at the pad intensely. "Used bridge on moon base once. Long ago."

"Yes. I've only seen two in my lifetime. They're quite difficult to build, even in times of peace and prosperity. Particularly daunting with such few resources during a war," Wheeljack said, smiling behind his mask. He looked at the almost indecipherable work. "Perceptor was a genius to build all this. I wonder who helped him."

Wildrider hummed. "Ve are to go to Africa?" he asked.

"Yes." Wheeljack forced himself to look up at the other mech. He was very quiet and that never boded well. This time, it wasn't because of some sort of trick. Wheeljack could tell Wildrider was quite serious. "Do you… are you alright with that, Wildrider?"

"Of course," Wildrider scoffed. He puffed out his chest, oh-so human in behavior. "Everyvone is going, so I must go too. Ve are Gestalt."

"Ha, yes," Wheeljack replied, smiling tightly behind his mask. "It'll be one _wild ride_ , so I shall be glad you are coming with us for that then, my friend."

Wildrider laughed loudly at the poor joke. "Yes, I agree."

Silence returned to the lab and Wheeljack tried to focus on the coordinate mapping on his datapad. It was hard to keep his processors on the data when he could feel Wildrider's piercing gaze on his back. He didn't have to ask what was wrong or wait long for an answer.

"Vheeljack."

Wheeljack paused and then looked up. "Yes?" he asked, peering up to the mirrored green optics staring at him so intently.

"I never had creator," Wildrider said. He smirked as he leaned on the table. He tilted his helm, considering the scientist. "You are… good replacement."

Creator. Father. It was the same. Wheeljack stared at the ex-Decepticon in shock. It wasn't surprising Wildrider felt that way about the scientist; Wheeljack himself had realized long before that he'd effectively adopted both Danny and Wildrider by default. He just… never expected to hear it from Wildrider himself.

It was enough to make a spark break.

"…Thank you, 'Rider," Wheeljack managed, earfins flashing lowly. "You are precious to me as well."

"Precious," Wildrider repeated. He stared out at nothing before surprising Wheeljack with a short laugh. It wasn't his normal cackle. It almost sounded like a sane, tired laugh—the type Wheeljack heard from himself or Jazz lately. Wildrider glanced at the scientist with a wistful look. "I have never been precious to anyvone."

Wheeljack reached out and touched Wildrider's shoulder. Ages ago, that move would have scared both of them; now, it was second nature. "You are to all of us," he said firmly.

Wildrider grinned. "If ve die, that's okay," he said, glancing over at the back of the room, at the platform that would whisk them away. "I have never feared death. Especially not now."

Something twisted deep within Wheeljack's spark. "Everything will be okay, 'Rider," he said gently. He let his hand drop.

"Yes," Wildrider replied, nodding. He smirked at Wheeljack with confidence and trust. "It vill."

He walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing across the cave. Wheeljack looked up at the machine and smiled behind his mask.

Yes, it would.

 **0000**

Hope needed kindness, but as Danny grew older and understood what else her heart needed to get by, she realized it also needed strength. She had to be able to brave the insurmountable task of getting up every morning, to look up at the dark grey sky, and still say, " _I am here and I am alive_." It never got easier, but that was alright, because she had the strength to do it anyway. Her strength came from her friends and theirs came from her.

However, that cold winter's evening challenged her strength and subsequent hopes one last and difficult time. It shook them and pushed them—but Danny would not give up that easily.

She wasn't sure what to make of their newest and hopefully last venture in post-war Europe. They had seen so much, done so much—suffered so much. They had all lost friends and family, but they still had each other. They were still progressing despite the odds. It had taken them all these weeks to get where they were and it was still terrifying. Danny knew they had to keep going and she also knew they _could_.

And then it all ended with Danny and Barns snuggled together on their beds, staring at each other in silence. The fire crackled and Rachel and Kass were already asleep. Danny had taken to curling up next to Barns, closer than ever before, in the last few weeks.

The most telling sign that things were serious was the fact Barns let her lay there, so close to him. He let her take his hands and hold them. Some nights, when the lines around his eyes were tighter and his eyes were more bloodshot than usual, he took hers first. That was one of those nights.

"You're tense," she pointed out quietly. She felt better when her hands were caught up in his. He was bigger, like a mech, but soft. Touchable. Human.

"Wheeljack is not sharing all of the data with me," Barns muttered back. He closed his eyes in exhaustion.

Danny frowned. She didn't like the fact Wheeljack had practically gone solo with the whole machine thing too, but he was their only real scientist. "Well… we can't process it like he can," she offered. That was the truth. All she had been able to do was cut cables and make sure 'Jack hadn't neglected his health too much.

"I know." Barns sighed heavily and buried his face further into his pillow. "But this is more than that. He makes me nervous. His nervousness," he said, his voice muffled.

"Can you blame him?" Danny asked teasingly.

" _Non_ ," Barns admitted with another sigh. He glanced upwards at the ceiling. "I cannot."

They lay like that for a few more minutes, but Danny knew Barns was still thinking furiously. The lines around his eyes made her feel guilty for not being in there with them and helping more. They were working so hard for all of them, for a better life. They were nothing less than heroes in her eyes. She owed them the world.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked quietly.

Barns looked up at her with almost the same brown eyes she had. "Many things," he replied.

"You can tell me," Danny said, meaning it. She could have stared forever into his eyes.

For another few minutes, Barns just stared at her. She could see the building emotion and tension in his shoulders and eyes. He had something important to say. She waited and gave him the time to speak, like he always did with her. He gripped her hands tightly.

"If we… do not make it…" he began, struggling. He kept his eyes bravely on hers, however. "I don't want to go without letting you know that…"

Danny smiled with understanding. "I love you," she said simply.

Barns smiled back and a thousand different emotions passed through his eyes. "I love you, too," he said. He spoke quietly, but the words were as loud as an avalanche over her heart.

For a second, she wanted to cry and then laugh and then—just smile. "Knew it," she said, her teasing tone choked with emotion. She forced herself to just smile.

That made Barns laugh. "Ha…" He ducked his head to hide his own grin.

"What made you say it now?" she asked, curious.

Barns laughed a little more. "I am afraid I will not have a chance to tell you later," he replied. He traced patterns on the back of her hand, eyes far, far away. "I… do not want to die with regret in my heart."

That made her sad, though she knew it wasn't Barns' fault. It had crossed her mind several times over the last few years, wondering if there was ever a good moment to tell him how she really felt, because they were always living a last moment, honestly. It felt better that he had brought it up first though. He had always been so guarded. Now… it felt like a deathbed confession. Love was love, though.

"I'm glad you told me," she whispered. She leaned closer to touch her forehead to his. Their eyes were so close. "But we're not going to die."

"No?" Barns asked, eyes filled with good humor.

"Nope. We are going to survive and we—," she began, grinning now, stumbling over her emotions. "We are going to find a new home. A better one. All of us." Because they were survivors. Because they were _strong_.

Barns smiled kindly and closed his eyes. "Yes. We will," he agreed softly.

" **Everyone.** "

Danny almost jumped out of her skin and the entire moment was taken over with an icy adrenaline rush. She rolled over and saw Wheeljack standing by the entrance to the back passageway. His mask was missing again and he was smiling softly at them. At the sound of his voice, everyone had roused and was watching him with varying degrees of interest and alarm.

"'Jack?" Jazz prompted, sitting upright. He had started to get up, but hesitated.

Wheeljack also paused. "It is ready," he said, his voice echoing across the room with almost supernatural power. "By tomorrow, we will be ready to go. The power cells just need to charge one more night."

" _Oh, Jesus_ ," Rachel whispered. She dropped her head to her knees and just _breathed_. Kass reached over and gripped her shoulder tightly in support. Vortex, behind them, just stared on in shock.

Jazz finally got to his own feet, looking unsteady. "I-I thought you said it would be ready in a few… days," he began lamely. He and Thundercracker wore similar stunned expressions.

Wheeljack shifted on his legs. "It's… ready now," he said, voice trembling and dipping into static almost. He clasped his hands together and smiled though.

"I… okay…" Jazz glanced around at the speechless group and seemed to struggle to collect himself. "We—we should… get ready…?"

"The sooner the better, Jazz, but get some rest while we have the time," the taller scientist said, chuckling quietly. "We will need it, believe me."

"At dawn, then?" Kass asked. Her voice was so fragile sounding now. Danny could hear her own blood roaring in her ears.

Wheeljack nodded stiffly. "Yes," he said. He smiled and his earfins flashed lowly. "Get some rest in the meanwhile. I'll recharge after I double check some things."

"I'll start packing now," Barns countered, standing taller. He grinned down at Danny, who kept her hand in his. "Rest can wait."

"Like I could recharge anyway after that," Arcee added, chuckling. The others agreed. Wildrider began chuckling to himself. Jazz just offlined his visor and seemed to be praying. Everyone just moved.

Danny braced herself and tried to remember how to breathe as she tried to help Kass get everything together. This was happening. _It was happening_.

Briefly, a small and hysterical bubble of laughter built up within her chest.

No matter what awaited them on the other side—

No matter if they lived, died, or fell somewhere in between—

They had to do it.

They had to believe that yes, things can get better. That hope… even in this world… could still exist.

Because they weren't just survivors. They were alive. They were friends. They were family. And families had to believe in the hope of a better day, no matter what.

Reaching out to clutch Barns' hand tightly within her own, Danny looked up at her guardian and smiled.

"Let's do this."

Wheeljack smiled back and the eleven of them, eyes and optics gleaming, began to move, getting ready to walk down the pathway to their future—

Together.

 

 **The End.**

 **To be continued in** _**Fallout: Apocalypse** _ **.**


End file.
